


Fearless

by siriusmajoris



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: F/M, Link likes his secrets, M/M, Multi, Selectively Mute Link, Sidon makes an Entrance, Zelda buries her face in shame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 22:31:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11907552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriusmajoris/pseuds/siriusmajoris
Summary: Link's issues come to a head when the Zora Prince comes and begs for his help.





	1. Quiet Frustrations

**Author's Note:**

> I like to call this 'I love Link/Sidon/Zelda and I'm still pissed about skyward sword' the fic. The main characters are all from botw, but the setting's new (though I'm ripping all the names from botw locations <.<;; )
> 
> Sidon /is/ introduced in this chapter, technically, so please be patient

Zelda holds a bow with such grace that it conceals her strength. Only her focused expression belies her false weakness, fingers quickly loosing two arrows at a time.

Yet the arrows miss their mark by a sliver, and Link looks more closely at her. Her fingers curl around the bow ever so slightly tighter than necessary, and her frustration is clear—she nocks two more arrows, fires, and misses again, repeating the motions over and over in rapid succession.

_Something's wrong,_ he thinks. But he ignores it, figures she'll work out her problems after some time.

If nothing else, Link knows this has nothing to do with her _skill_. When he'd first come to live here four years ago, she'd seen him as an opportunity. A month of watching the boy masterfully shoot an arrow directly into the center of a flock of crows—just enough to scare them, not enough to hit any of them—she'd begun to beg him to teach her. Two more months of tireless insistence, and he finally relented.

Link wasn't sure what he expected from her—persistence, a willingness to practice, maybe a little innate ability? Yet when he watched her fire the first arrow with a fierceness that rivaled his own, he found himself wondering why she wanted a teacher, as surely if she only wanted to hunt she was more than capable. No, he knows there's something else at the heart of this than _hunting_ , but four years later he still has no better ideas to show for it.

Zelda growls beside him, storming over to the target to gather her arrows—none of which are up to her standards. He raises a brow at her; she catches the look and glares back.

_There's definitely something wrong_.

He fiddles with one of the cloths wrapped around his waist, avoiding her gaze. It's chilly, but the winds aren't any stronger than they usually are from this position in the sky. Link finds himself staring ahead, searching the clouds at the edge of their island for any signs of storms, finding nothing. There's only the small creek to his left going off the edge in a small waterfall—pretty, but nothing compared to some from the rivers in town. He wonders if he stares long enough he'll be able to pretend he hasn't noticed and keep unnecessary stress out of his day.

And then he glances at her again and his resolve crumbles.

He isn't sure what it is about her that causes him to give up on his own stubbornness so quickly, but he does. He decides to tackle this problem head on. He taps her shoulder as she nocks a single arrow; she ignores him and once again misses her target.

He sighs. "Zelda," he whispers as she nocks another. This catches her attention, and she lowers her bow to scowl at him.

"You don't need to say anything, it's my problem, not yours," Zelda says softly.

Link frowns. "So tell me, and make it my problem." _It's bothering you, let me help,_ he almost adds.

She doesn't answer, instead raises her bow and begins nocking more arrows. Link decides to ignore her too, standing from his perch on the rock and beginning to pace near the fenced edge of the island.

The sky below them is a rare thing, high enough to make him catch his breath as if he'd lost his balance. Link had come to the floating isles hoping for something cut off from the world, and cut off it was indeed. He'd been the first new person to live in town in a decade, especially rare for choosing the village in the isles rather than the town at the base of the Ulri Mountain. The only visitors to his home were people from the mountain base and the occasional Rito messenger or merchant, which was precisely how he liked things.

Zelda misses another shot, audibly groaning. Link glances over and sees the arrow several inches out of the way and shoots her another look, raising his brow and crossing his arms.

She sees him and sighs, finally relenting. "Grandmother would prefer that I stop going up the mountain, due to the increase of monsters in the area."

_So she won't be able to visit as often, she means._ Link's eyebrow twitches in irritation.

" _If_ I insist on going up the mountain at all, she would prefer someone come with me. As if I need a bodyguard!" she growls, loosing an arrow and finally hitting her mark. "I'm more than capable of protecting myself, I've been making this trip since I was fourteen!" Another arrow, right beside the first. "I've gone to the wilds alone since I was _ten!_ "

Link moves to stand beside her as she begins another round of rapidly firing arrows. With each one he sees the mounting fire in her eyes—too stubborn to tell her grandmother "no" over valid concerns, and too secretive to prove that she has no need of an escort.

Well, he supposed the secrecy was _his_ fault. It was at the heart of their agreement—she would keep quiet, and he would teach her. He'd said he didn't want every child in town to beg him for archery lessons, and she had settled with it since it meant getting what she wanted. In reality, he was just afraid of too many people knowing _just_ how skilled he was, worried it would give him away. He was already reluctant to use his bow or crossbow at all, but he'd admit it was a good skill to have with so many birds eyeing the town's crops and the wolves at the mountain base.

Zelda's silence lends to the calming of her rage. She returns to repeatedly missing her target, and the ensuing frustration mingles with her anger. Link watches on wondering if he can help—or if she'll even _let_ him.

He won't offer to be her bodyguard—he's had enough of people only seeing him for his strength for one lifetime, and he doesn't want anyone looking _too_ closely at his weaponry skills.

In the end, he places his hand on her shoulder again as she fires an arrow.

"Let me help," he whispers.

Zelda misses again and takes her aggression out on him, instead. "What do you think _you_ can do? You won't even let me tell her you taught me archery!"

Link flinches, narrowing his eyes. He finds himself gritting his teeth and clenching his hand into a fist, growling back, "I didn't _have_ to teach you."

Zelda retreats, Link takes a deep breath. "I didn't _want_ to. _You_ wanted me to."

Maybe it was his words, or maybe it was that he'd spoken more than a single sentence, but Zelda looks sheepishly towards the ground.

"Sorry… you're right," she finally murmurs.

Link doesn't speak anymore and Zelda decides on a solution—she'll tell her grandmother that she taught herself archery in the woods, bought a bow from the market and made her own arrows. Link trusts that she won't mention him.

.

Zelda returns to the mountain base the next morning and Link begins to get antsy without her constant presence. Out of all the townspeople, she knows the most about him. If he hadn't seen her mastery with lies, maybe that would _concern_ him, but instead he finds it comforting to know that there was someone he could go to if he had to.

And that night, he needed to.

_He hears a voice so deep, so menacing he can't understand what it says to him. Smoke fills his lungs and his body burns from the heat. Everything around him has burst into flames or crumbled under the gales, leaving Link surrounded by ruins. His body trembles, fingers squeezing the hilt of the sword he can barely lift._

_"Remember your duty!" someone yells towards him; he remains frozen in place._

_"I can't…" he tries to whisper…_

He awakes in a cold sweat, visions of the fire and remains of the city at the forefront of his mind. His fingers grip at his quilt, shaking with eyes wide open as he tries to burn the image of the room before him into his memory to push away the rest of his thoughts.

"It's not your fault," he tells himself.

_But it is,_ he immediately thinks.

He has no way to convince himself otherwise—he _failed_ his duty, let everyone down. He failed to meet every expectation they had for him and there was no one left to clean up his mess.

Link takes a shaky breath, then slowly lets it out.

His thoughts are a haze as he pulls himself out of bed. He lights a candle and tries to busy himself, hoping for _anything_ that can distract him. Nothing works.

He leans his arm against the wall to steady himself, body still quivering.

The dreams had been unbearable lately, like his mind realized he'd found some semblance of peace and decided that couldn't be allowed to continue. And after a few weeks of this, he's had enough.

He doesn't know what he thinks she'll be able to do for him. Logically, he knows she _can't_. She may know him best, but he still refuses to tell her much more than basic facts about himself. But he has no one else, and she won't ask questions.

Link takes the weapons stashed under his bed, nimbly sliding his bow over his shoulder and sword onto his back. He doesn't _want_ to take them, but the mountain path is perilous and filled with monsters at this hour in the night.

His mind remains hazy as he walks, grateful for the chill that finally provides him a distraction. He takes the shortest—and most dangerous—path, not trusting himself to paraglide down from the island but not wishing to spend hours following the road.

Link's thoughts are too foggy as he runs. He slips down some of the rocks, trips over branches and falls into the mud. He barely notices and doesn't care—stopping and dealing with the monsters is too much trouble, and he doesn't wish to be alone with his thoughts any longer than he needs to.

He wonders what Zelda will think of him, seeing him covered in scrapes and scratches, mud covering any skin he didn't injure. He shakes his head; it doesn't matter, he can see the town through the trees and his answer will come soon enough.

Link stops running once he reaches the road, no longer concerned with avoiding troublesome beasts. Instead he walks, arms crossed tightly and his chest heaving to catch his breath. He notices a leaf caught in his hair and realizes he must look like more of a wreck than he'd realized. _It's Zelda. She won't ask,_ he reminds himself.

There's nothing out of the ordinary at Zelda's house, save a couple of flower pots sitting by the front door with a couple silent princesses growing inside. Zelda liked to tend to them, though so far each attempt to raise them has ended in failure. Maybe that's how she sees him—something that needs help. He wouldn't blame her, not with the way he was coming to visit.

He creeps silently into the house, not wishing to wake Grandmother Ima as he tiptoes up the stairs. In front of Zelda's bedroom door, he hesitates. He's visited unannounced before and spent enough time here not to need to knock, but this seems a little extreme even so. Entering her room in the middle of the night looking unraveled was enough to worry anyone, especially when he had no precedence for doing such a thing.

But his desire for her company and the distraction it would bring outweighs his concerns, so he offers a quiet knock on her door and lets himself in.

Link isn't certain what he wanted, but his heart sinks when he sees Zelda drowsily staring at him.

"What're you doing here…?" she murmurs, rubbing at her eyes.

He stares at the ground, hugging his arms against his chest and taking a breath before lightly shrugging his shoulders. He looks at her with furrowed brows, the concern registering in her expression as she wakes enough to notice how dirty he is.

She pulls herself out of bed faster than he expected, coming over to him and squeezing his shoulders. "Did something happen? Are you alright?"

The sudden motion takes him off-guard, making him flinch and wince as pieces of his nightmare come to mind again. He blinks the thoughts away, focusing on Zelda again and noticing her mouth moving. _Oh… she's still asking questions._

"Link?" she asks. "Link, are you alright? You're bleeding—what happened?"

He doesn't answer.

Her hands move an inch down his shoulders, holding him more closely in a soothing manner. "You're safe, Link. Look at me, what do you need?"

_Tell me it's not my fault,_ he thinks, all of his failures rushing into his thoughts at once. "Tell me a secret," he whispers, finishing his question before realizing he's even spoken. Maybe if she told him something personal, he'd feel like he could too. Maybe he could will himself to speak more than a phrase or two. _This is ridiculous, don't drag her into your problems with something so personal,_ he scolds himself.

He stares at the floor again, shaking his head. "No, never mind," he murmurs. Link shuts his eyes, this entire endeavor beginning to seem pointless, or worse yet poor judgement on his part.

Zelda shuts the door behind him and Link reflexively looks towards the sound. Zelda's furrowing her brows, eyes more concerned than before. She brushes her hand against his arm as she walks past him to sit on the bed, motioning for him to sit beside her. Link follows obediently, sitting apart from her and watching her carefully.

"A secret," she repeats. She seems to look him over, absently pulling a leaf out of his hair as she makes her judgement. Link opens his mouth to tell her she doesn't have to answer, but the words don't leave his lips. "Alright, a real secret then. Something you can't tell anyone else." She holds her pinky towards him expectantly. "Swear?"

Link lets out a light laugh and puts his pinky against hers. She grips it tightly and they shake their hands, the promise made. Then Zelda carefully holds up her right hand, gingerly removing a fingerless lace glove before turning the back of her hand to face him. "This is why I want to learn combat," she says softly.

Sitting neatly on the back of her hand is a faint image of the Triforce, with the lower left piece a deeper gold.

Link's eyes widen, staring at the relatively innocuous tattoo. She acted so casually, so at ease as she revealed to him something so important.

_She's carrying the missing piece of the Triforce,_ he realizes.

She trusts him with something that _must_ be her most carefully kept secret, and Link feels uncomfortable discussing things she already _knows_ about himself.

"It's the Triforce of Wisdom and I am its guardian, though I'm not really certain why," she explains.

Images of flames and ruins return. _I know why,_ he thinks.

"I can't say that I would have _wanted_ to carry it but… I will protect it. I will do my duty."

Link winces again, gritting his teeth. He shuts his eyes and starts trembling as he tries to take a deep breath.

_"Remember your duty!" someone yells, voice soft and soothing._

_Link remains frozen._

_"If you fail, all will be lost! You_ must _succeed!" they yell. Link can hear the desperation in their voice, the fear. He doesn't know who they were, whether or not they survived the violence. He wonders if they thought their words could make him spring to action, valiantly perform his duties as were expected of him._

_But he couldn't move, body only shuddering more as the terrible beast took deafening steps closer and closer to him, making his ears ring until he could he nothing else._

_"Remember your duty…" the words echo in his mind, commanding him to take action as his body betrays him and remains rigid._

_"You must succeed."_

.

Link blinks his eyes awake from a dreamless and restless sleep. It was a cold comfort considering how awful he still felt after his trip down the mountain, but a welcome one.

The sun shines through the window, soft wind pushing the curtains gently across the room. It was warm, inviting. It was _not his_.

He pulls himself up, leaning against the wall and fighting a headache from his exhaustion to try to remember what happened last night. He knew his nightmare, his visit and, apparently, stay at Zelda's home. She told him about the Triforce and he'd…

He shook his head, repressing the thoughts. Remembering and letting it overwhelm him again wouldn't do either of them any good. Link rubs at his eyes, forcing his attention to his surroundings. He was on Zelda's bed, tangled in one of her blankets, and there was another quilt and pillow on the floor where she must have slept. _I've really imposed myself on her kindness, haven't I._

He slowly forces himself out of bed, noticing the dirt and grime on his skin and clothing. _You're a wreck._ He needed to clean himself off before he got the rest of her home dirty, realizing he must have left mud and dead leaves on her bed.

Sure enough, as he stands and turns towards the bed he notices it isn't as pristine as it usually is. His head pounds from the effort and he groans, rubbing his temple. Cursing his headache, he does another glance over of the room. Zelda's not there, and he guesses that's a good thing since he's not ready to face her yet. He didn't know what he'd say to her, if he could bring himself to say anything at all, and he'd put it off as long as he could.

Beside the door, there's a small tub of water, a towel, and a change of clothes he left at her house in case he needed it—not that he'd ever meant it to be used like this. The bucket won't do as well as an actual bath, but he's grateful he won't have to face her looking as terrible as before. He strips down, carefully wiping the filth off of his skin and out of his hair while he considers his strategy.

He doesn't want to talk about himself. Or be the focus of her attention at all, really. He can't even remember the night before, for better or for worse. Maybe his silence and focus on the Triforce would be enough to deflect most of the discomfort.

How has he never noticed? Shouldn't he have been able to sense it before? He finds himself questioning his lack of attention to detail as he slowly dresses himself, fussing with the folds in his clothes.

But now that he's washed and dressed, he's run out of excuses to put off going downstairs. Link stands before the door, breathing deeply and preparing himself for a _deeply_ uncomfortable conversation. Then he forces himself to open the door, watching his feet as he comes down the stairs to try and avoid eye contact.

But eyes are on _him_ , apparently, as Grandmother Ima is quick to greet him. "Good afternoon, Link," she says cheerily.

_Afternoon?_ He barely contains a groan, though he's not surprised he slept so long.

He forces a glance towards the table, not letting himself look high enough to see their faces but enough to know that Zelda and Grandmother Ima were seated across from each other. Link stands awkwardly towards the edge of the room, not daring step any closer lest they start to question him.

A moment of the predicted uncomfortable silence follows as Link hovers near the stairs and Grandmother Ima waits expectantly. Her patience cracks first however, and she clears her throat. An awful feeling of dread overtakes Link's chest as he anticipates what she's about to say, but it's quickly replaced with surprise when her words are _nothing_ like he expected. "Link, you're not our only guest today." Her voice is still cheery and Link's cheeks flush when he realizes he's accidentally been ignoring someone.

Link forces himself to look up to greet this other guest and isn't remotely prepared for what he sees—a red Zora tall enough to have to sit with his seat pushed back and knees pressed against the table, two other slightly smaller Zora standing behind him.

Apparently realizing he's been noticed, the red Zora jumps to his feet and enthusiastically rushes over to Link, causing him to flinch backwards until he's nearly pressing his back against the wall.

"Hello Link," the Zora says, bowing towards him. "I am Prince Sidon."


	2. Unfortunate Introductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how often I'll be updating, but as I'd already written most of this chapter, enjoy a double post!

There are a lot of things Link is capable of putting up with—people who can't deal with his silence and find it frustrating, monsters trying to run him into the ground, jumping off of mountains with only his paraglider to cushion the fall…

Zelda's grandmother handing him to the Zoras on a golden platter, however, wasn't one of them.

Link gulps, staring at the Zora, a _prince_ apparently. He finds he's shrinking into himself, overwhelmed by both his title and how _tall_ he is. Is it possible for someone to make one feel small both mentally and physically? Because this 'Prince Sidon' seems to be doing just that.

Prince Sidon appears to be waiting for Link to answer him, apparently unaware of how uncommon it is for the Hylian to speak. After an uncomfortable silence that threatened to become a staring match, Prince Sidon shifts _very_ slightly. "Pardon me, it seems I have shocked you," he says, voice still polite but a little more upbeat.

Link shoots Zelda a look, doing his best to say _"save me"_ using only his expression. Zelda is too busy burying her face in her hands, apparently mortified over the informal introduction her grandmother has arranged for a _prince_.

The Zora takes a step forward; Link takes a step back. He presses his hands against the wall, feeling for the door and wondering if he could open it and run before Prince Sidon got any more intimidating.

"Forgive me, Lady Zelda told me your name. I should have allowed you to introduce yourself," Prince Sidon bows a second time, only this one is meant to show the sincerity of his apology. Link wishes he would take a step back again, uncomfortable with how close he becomes every time he leans forward.

Link swallows. _He's too polite._ Prince Sidon seems to be the embodiment of everything a prince should be, and Link is becoming _keenly_ aware of how he must look—hair still wet from his "bath," clothing ragged from use, scrapes and scratches covering his skin.

As Link becomes more uncomfortable, so too does Prince Sidon. He shows only the slightest errors in his diplomatic pose, lips slightly parted as he searches for words and holding his wrists in what must be a nervous gesture. _Good,_ he thinks. He's glad he's not the only one feeling uneasy.

Link's continued failure to speak has Prince Sidon bring his attention to Grandmother Ima. "Ah, but I've gotten carried away again! Lady Ima has prepared such a lovely meal for us and has patiently awaited your presence!"

_…Lady Ima?_ How long has it been since anyone's called her _anything_ that didn't involve granny or grandmother? Link had sometimes considered himself overly formal for using _Grandmother Ima_ and here this Zora is making that seem like nothing, which only served to compound the anxiety his massively intimidating personality was causing.

Sidon retakes his seat beside Grandmother Ima and gestures for Link to join them, but Link stays put, nearly grinding his bare heels into the ground.

Ima watches him closely and smiles. "I'm glad to see you're awake—Prince Sidon has been quite insistent that we didn't disturb you while you slept." Link grimaces, realization that he must have slept through at least an hour of his presence beginning to dawn on him. "You see, Link, the Zora came to our town looking for someone they know, a blond. Naturally they made their way to my Zelda eventually."

Out of the corner of his eyes he sees Zelda sink into herself a little more, a pale shade of pink covering her face. _"I told her you wouldn't be up to this,"_ she mouths, then leans her face into her hands again.

"You see, they were looking for a _boy_ , and I told them that no such person lived under this roof."

Link could imagine where she was going with this.

"However, I told our guests that someone fitting such a description was visiting and offered to let them wait until you were ready."

Handed to the Zora on a golden platter, just as he'd suspected.

It takes everything he has not to bury his face in a manner similar to Zelda and _all_ of his willpower to creep closer to the table. Whatever this prince wants, Link is going to refuse as quickly as he can and pretend this never happened.

He takes his seat beside Zelda, glancing at her hand. There's an added level of discomfort in sitting beside her _knowing_ that there's a second uncomfortable conversation waiting for him whenever he manages to convince the Zora to leave.

Link swallows his pride, looking up at Prince Sidon through narrowed eyes to try and gauge his expression. _What does he want?_ he wonders, absently noticing Ima scooping pumpkin, bread, and some sort of meat onto his plate—the only one that hadn't been served already. She looked nicer than usual—short and stout like always, but wearing some of her less dirt-stained clothing and a vibrantly colored cloth over her forehead to cover her gray hairs.

Prince Sidon takes the fork and knife and smiles graciously at Grandmother Ima. "Thank you for this wonderful meal, I am truly grateful that you would share your food with strangers such as ourselves."

Everyone taking their utensils after the prince forces Zelda to finally uncover her face as she reaches for hers as well, strategically staring at the table to avoid seeing any of them.

So they were all uncomfortable, then. Fine. Link didn't care as long as he could get this over with.

Prince Sidon delicately eats his food with perfect form; Link shovels food into his mouth and never once removes his glare from the man, not even when a little bit of pumpkin slides off his fork and onto the table. Zelda seems to bury her face again when Link does nothing, and Link absently wonders if their discussion will be avoided because Zelda will disown the both of them in humiliation.

Realistically, he's probably looking at a third conversation now where she lectures and scolds him for his terrible manners in front of a prince.

Finally, Prince Sidon begins to speak again. "Truthfully Link, I have come to beg for your assistance."

Link narrows his eyes even more, lips slightly parted as though he has fangs to bare.

"We've spent a great deal of time searching for you, and we've journeyed quite far from the Zora Domain." For a moment, Link thinks he sees the prince frown before an enthusiastic smile crosses his face again. "We did not wish to bother you after you made your will so clear, but we have discussed the matter extensively and found no other solution."

The prince rises from his seat and Zelda and Grandmother Ima follow immediately, afraid of being rude in front of the Zora Prince. Link stays seated, watching him closely. _Let him be insulted,_ he thinks. If he comes to hate Link, then _good riddance_.

"Our people's situation has become quite dire—for the past seven months, it has not rained in the Zora Domain when it was once a nearly daily occurrence. Furthermore, we noticed four months ago that the water levels were slowly lowering every day."

Link steeples his fingers together, raising a brow.

"Although myself and my party have not been to the Domain for two months, current projections suggest that our once beautiful lake is now little more than a puddle with a special name."

Link snorts, picturing the Zora flopping in a puddle like regular fish, then immediately covers his mouth and looks sheepishly at the prince when he remembers how serious the situation is.

Although, for all the trouble he's caused him today, Link wouldn't mind seeing Prince Sidon flounder. The thought nearly makes him snort again and he squeezes his hand against his face to at least _try_ to act as he's expected.

Prince Sidon doesn't seem bothered, or at least hides it well enough, and continues his speech—a speech Link is beginning to believe he's practiced before. "To complicate the matter, it gets colder every day, and if our people don't die of dehydration, we will likely soon die of cold. We have been forced to evacuate the Zora Domain, with the majority of our people currently seeking solace in Lake Hylia thanks to your king's generosity. But while we may _survive_ , it is not _home_. I have heard some Hylians liken it to camping."

Link furrows his brows, hand still covering his mouth. For how cheery his introduction had been, Prince Sidon is now unusually serious—he takes the safety of his people personally. But for how quickly it had come on, it stopped as a wide grin crossed his face once again. "Though things may be dire, I do believe that it is not impossible to mend! Link," he says, getting down on his knees and _kneeling_ before him. "I must plead for your help. There is no other more qualified to deal with magic of this scale." Sidon leans his head forward, brows nearly touching the floor. "Please, come with us to the Zora Domain and seek the source of the magic so that my people may return home."

Link steeples his fingers again and offers his first attempt at communication. He gives a gentle shake of his head, his message loud and clear:

_"No."_

.

Prince Sidon was stunned, Zelda was confused, and Grandmother Ima was disappointed. In one fell swoop, Link had managed to upset everyone in the room. Even Prince Sidon's two attendants seemed frightened, likely unsure of how they could save their people when their last hope had just refused.

Link tries not to let it get to him.

_This isn't personal._

Quite simply, Link is not remotely close to the person Prince Sidon believes him to be.

Link takes in Prince Sidon's shocked expression, a small smile playing at his lips behind his hand. It takes him a few minutes to pull himself together, clearly not prepared to have been told _"no"_ to such a heartfelt request.

Well, he clearly hadn't _met_ Link yet.

"Please, Link, you must have more faith in yourself! I believe—no, I _know_ you can, you must only trust yourself." The prince jumps to his feet and offers a sharp grin, giving him an enthusiastic thumbs up that leaves Link reeling and wondering how he can _still_ be so hopeful. "Truly, if we work together, we are certain to succeed!"

Link scoffs. _Your sister thought the same thing and it led to her death,_ he thinks. _I won't let anyone follow me into danger on nothing but faith. Not again._

Faith wouldn't morph him into the hero he never was. Faith wouldn't protect them in battle. No matter how much he may _wish_ to help, he can't. So long as he was around, people would count on _him_ to save them, not themselves. He can't let himself be responsible for any more deaths.

Link dares not look at Zelda, who's surely beginning to piece together the puzzle. He _certainly_ doesn't look at Grandmother Ima, worried he'll crumble under her disapproving gaze.

And then there's Prince Sidon. Prince Sidon, who was told _"no”_ and had his subsequent requests ignored, who remains smiling confidently at Link, something about his expression… comforting. He wonders if he would have been able to say no, had Prince Sidon asked something lesser of him.

_Probably not,_ he thinks as Sidon remains convinced. He must be an incredibly charismatic prince to his people, to be able to put even the _smallest_ of bends in Link's iron will.

But he doesn't, and will never, understand why Link refuses, that his refusal ensures salvation rather than deny it.

"Link," Prince Sidon tries to start again.

He shakes his head again and stands. _I_ can't _help you._ And so he turns around, letting himself out the front door and leaving Zelda's home in a worse position than when he'd come the night before.

_Oh Hylia… what could you_ possibly _see in me?_


	3. Broken Defenses

Link is aimlessly wandering the streets, trying to clear his head—which was becoming increasingly difficult with the return of his headache.

Maybe it was a stress headache, not exhaustion like he'd thought.

Link takes a right, circling back to the beginning of his path. The town is large enough that he can wander without crossing the same street every few minutes, but small enough that he can't get lost in it—and right now, that was all he wanted. To disappear into a crowd where no one recognized him, had no expectations of him.

That's what he'd come here looking for—anonymity, peace—and that irritatingly cheerful Prince had broken it in an instant.

Everyone holds impossibly high expectations of him. Link doesn't even know where to _start_ trying to live up to them, if it's even worth trying. But he'd done it. He'd done _everything_ they'd asked and more, and it was never enough for them. He'd given every second of his life to do better by them, gone so far as to use the Ocarina of Time to buy himself more time to learn and meet their expectations.

Nothing was good enough.

Then, when he'd failed and realized he _couldn't_ , he'd carried the burden of _knowing_ it'd been his fault, the humiliation of failure, the shame of running. Even the weight of knowing that they will never understand that he'd left to _protect_ them, that his presence did more harm than good.

And now they're left to believe that he doesn't _want_ to help them, that he hasn't done everything that he can, isn't doing everything he can, that he doesn't care—

Link leans his forehead against a stone wall and slams his fist into it. He lets the cool of the rock soak into his skin, using it as a distraction.

_Wallowing in self-pity isn't going to accomplish anything._

He takes a moment to control his breathing, realizing he'd been rapidly panting, and turns to slide against the wall until he's sitting down.

He doesn't want to run. He did that, when he'd come here. And he was _happy_. He can't remember when he'd felt as at peace as he did here—maybe when he was a small child, long before anyone had spoken to him of duties, of heroes as anything other than tales to help him sleep.

He _wants_ to stay here, and he'll be damned if he lets one person ruin everything he's made for himself.

But Link also has enough sense to know that storming back to Zelda's house while he's still upset with the Prince is doomed to fail.

So he goes to the library instead, hoping that Zelda will be there seeking its quiet, too. It's one of her favorite places in the town, and in turn became one of his.

Link walks slowly, remember how she'd once told him that she worked there most days of the week and he hadn't understood how helping out in such a small town's library could be so time consuming.

Until he'd discovered that _helping out_ was actually _reading everything they owned_.

Link has teased her endlessly about it, even comes to watch her work and claims that he still doesn't understand it. But really he just enjoys watching her research, the summer breeze and warmth through the window as her face lights up from a discovery.

If it is for nothing else, he will deal with Prince Sidon for just one more day of lazing around and quietly watching her as if there was nothing else that mattered in the world.

He quietly opens the door to the library, immediately slipping into the back to see if Zelda's there. He doesn't see her, but he takes a book randomly off of the shelf and sits in the corner pretending to be absorbed in his reading. Not that it matters—most of the townspeople can't read, have no need to, and with most of the unable or too busy to read, the library rarely sees more than a visitor or two a day.

Link has never really been one for reading. But he flips through the books he's holding, giving his hands something to do while he tries to settle his thoughts. It's a book on Hylia, a recording of the lesser known details of their goddess. Zelda cares more about studying the things she can see, so he's never really paid the book much attention. However, the words on the page catch his eye.

_"After the three goddesses moved on, leaving the Triforce in their wake, Hylia was left to take their place. Since then, the goddess has protected us from Evil and Malice by choosing people to champion her cause. These people would exhibit significant strength and sense of what is right, far surpassing the skills of normal people—"_

Link slams the book shut, rubbing his temple. _Normal people_. Something that, by this definition, he was _not_.

_You'll never be more than a tool to them,_ he thinks.

But tool or not, he _does_ believe strongly in what is good and just, the fact that he can do nothing about it slowly killing him. And the idea that there's currently a prince that believes him to be selfish and self-serving?

Waiting to return until he's calmed himself simply won't happen if he keeps going like this. Against all his better judgement, he closes the book and tucks it under his arm, storming back to Zelda's home.

.

Everyone's still there—Zelda at the table with her research notes, Grandmother Ima doing something in the kitchen, and the three Zora sitting together on the stairs, presumably because they _fit_ there.

Link throws a glare at Prince Sidon, who's begun to gape at his reappearance. He walks right by him, going to sit beside Zelda instead, and hoping the prince takes this as a slight.

Zelda looks at him with an unreadable expression, though he knows her well enough to know she's upset with him. "Where have you been?" she says. She asks the question like an order, voice calm but demanding.

Link shrugs, setting the book down on the table in front of her. Her eyes flick towards it, then immediately center on Link again. He offers her a sheepish look, one that reminds her that he _knows_ he's been acting rather cryptic. But maybe what he's brought will be enough of a peace offering.

He gently takes her hand, wrapping his pinky around hers. A soft shake, and Zelda peers at him more curiously than before.

_A secret,_ he thinks.

He opens the book to the same page as before, pointing to the passage he'd read.

_"These people would exhibit significant strength and sense of what is right, far surpassing the skills of normal people in a way such that they could shield the realm from Hatred Incarnate."_

Link points to another passage discussing the hero chosen by _a sword that seals the darkness_ , the knight of the people. _A secret,_ he repeats to himself.

And then he places his finger under his lip to motion to himself.

Zelda looks him over, rereads the passages several times, then finally breaks the silence. "So it's _you,_ then," she whispers.

Link braces himself, prepared to take responsibility for whatever she may be about to accuse him of.

Instead she _smiles_ , humming as she begins to think. "That explains… hmm, well, it explains a _lot_ ," she murmurs, more to herself than to him. Zelda takes Link's hand and squeezes it. "Secrets of great weight for each of us, then. Now we both have something to lose if one of us cracks."

Link stares at the smile she carries, the ease in which she accepts this information, and a wave of relief washes over him.

_She doesn't… she doesn't hate me?_

Link squeezes her hand, worried he'll fall apart in front of her out of sheer shock. Zelda doesn't seem to mind.

"And it _certainly_ explains our guest the Prince," she adds, eyes pointed like daggers as Prince Sidon lifts his head up and makes a mumbled noise of confusion.

Link groans. _Right._ He had worked himself up so badly he'd forgotten the Zora prince was even there.

He narrows his eyes, distaste filling his expression again. The Zora Prince _._ His original problem. The _reason_ he'd been forced to reveal something he'd never wanted to think about again.

And, it seems, now the target of Zelda's ire.

"You know, you have an awful lot of nerve coming here and expecting _one person_ to be the salvation of your entire people, hero or not." Zelda stands, crossing her arms. "And you _especially_ shouldn't have had me and granny wait on you without even deigning to explain why you wanted to meet with him."

That… certainly wasn't what he was expecting. Zelda, defending him when he'd refused what was meant to be his responsibility? Did she really believe it, or was she truly just so angry with the prince's lack of discretion that she was willing to overlook it?

Prince Sidon responds very… diplomatically, and it irritates Link a little more that he doesn't even seem to take it personally. "Truly, in retrospect I realize that I have lacked the proper form with which to approach this matter. I offer my sincerest apologies—I did not mean to upset you so. I only did what I believed was best for my people." He bows deeply towards them, sealing his apology.

Zelda nods, seeming to accept this. "A gracious apology," she states. "And yet," she begins, enough bite in her tone for Link to realize she's only just begun. "You were clearly refused several times but you still linger here, refusing to accept that you won't get what you want."

The Prince smiles sympathetically. "I'm afraid that when it comes to my people's well-being, I cannot afford to take 'no' as an answer without doing everything in my power first."

Zelda smiles, her polite demeanor downright vicious with the words she carries. "So you _had_ to stay in a stranger's home even when the target of your request had left? I do hope you hadn't conveniently forgotten that this is _not_ Link's home."

_What is she trying to do…?_ Link wonders.

Prince Sidon opens his mouth to protest, readying another well-practiced phrase to placate her. Zelda doesn't leave him any time to interrupt. "And even if Link returned and you continued to beg him, how, exactly, were you planning to change his mind? By repeating your requests again? You know, blatant disregard for someone's thoughts and squatting in their home isn't exactly the way to their heart."

The Zora twitches, hand beginning to curl into a fist. Piece by piece, Zelda was slowly breaking his carefully composed exterior, an armor made of diplomacy and manners. Link only questions what she means to gain by it. "And even if it worked, you mentioned that your people's trouble was caused by magic. Surely the tales of the Zora warriors and mages didn't create themselves, so why didn't you send your own people? A Hylian isn't any more expendable than a Zora, you know."

Fists curled tightly, body shaking ever so slightly.

"And what about the rumors about _you_? People say you're greatly skilled in magic, that it runs in your family, and that you're equally skilled in weaponry. Are you really so much of a coward that you can't handle your own problems yourself?"

Zelda's words hit the prince like a pierce to the chest. He throws his hands to the side, nearly scratching the wall, and shoots to his feet. "Because I can't!" he growls, sharpened teeth bared in rage. "The most likely source of the magic is guarded by significant amounts of electricity, something you would know already if you'd simply asked instead of playing ridiculous word games!"

His attendants flinch backwards, mouths wide at his outburst. Link finds himself gaping a little too, though more in awe of how quickly Zelda had broken defenses the prince had probably spent years building.

Zelda smirks as Prince Sidon finishes speaking, dropping her entire act in an instant. "Ahh, so _that's_ the real reason you're here. Well, you should have started with that."

The prince growls in irritation, quickly composing himself though clearly still too angry to be a proper diplomat. "Fine," he hisses. "Allow me to start over."


	4. Muted Requests

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's in Sidon's pov, enjoy!~

What the hell did these Hylians think they were playing at?

First the boy, _their hero_ , downright refuses his goddess-given responsibilities, and then the girl tries messing with his head. And for what? Because she's angry that his behavior isn't quite _perfect_? Forgive him for being more concerned with the safety of an entire kingdom than performing flawless manners for a Hylian village girl when he's already been more than cordial.

Zelda raises a brow. "No more games—from _either_ of us." She adds the end fiercely, and Sidon wonders if she's referring to how _politically_ he's treated this so far. "What, _exactly,_ makes you think that you _must_ have Link's help, of all people?"

As she speaks she turns the kitchen chair to face him, the hero eyeing her curiously and scooting his to do the same.

Zelda sits; Sidon speaks. "It is as I've said—the source lies protected by significant amounts of electricity. Even a simple shock arrow can be deadly to us Zora. Attempting to cross such a hazardous place would be _asking_ for death."

Zelda moves to rest one leg on Link as though his chair was empty, crossing her other leg over it. Link raises his brows and tilts his head towards her and Sidon thinks he can almost _see_ him restraining himself from rolling his eyes.

Sidon can imagine why—he's already had an encounter with her wit and he has his suspicions that she's making sure Link can't run away this time.

But Link settles quickly, one arm resting casually on Zelda's leg, fingers gently holding her ankle and his free hand fidgeting with his earrings and the point of his ear.

Prince Sidon finds the whole thing… jarring. He'd spent his life hearing tales of heroes, had watched carefully when Link was found _and_ when he'd disappeared. Yet here he is, sitting in a kitchen looking so positively _normal_ that for a moment Sidon isn't at all surprised that he'd refused—after all, who in their right mind would accept such a thing?

So he focuses himself on his task instead. "As for _where_ , it's the Sky Temple at the top of the mountain, the source of the river, and therefore life for my people. To make it worse, the key to the Sky Temple lies within the deepest caves at the bottom of our lake, for safe-keeping, but with the water draining there's no telling what might have moved in there now."

Zelda nods; Link has a sort of glassy-eyed stare. He's stopped moving—his index finger lies on the point of his ear and his thumb on his earring, and Sidon thinks he sees him squeezing Zelda's ankle. Zelda seems to notice too and moves to have both legs resting on him. Link snaps back to attention, getting ahold of himself while Sidon and Zelda wait patiently.

Well, _Zelda_ is patient; Sidon is waiting once more to hear the fate of his people.

Link says nothing, simply casts a glance towards Zelda. She gives him a slight nod and Prince Sidon realizes there's an unspoken conversation between them as she speaks again. "You answered half my question, but missed the most important part—why do you need _him_ , why not just any well-trained Hylian knight?"

This time Sidon is the one trying not to roll his eyes. Why must he explain himself to her? This is magical corruption lying at the heart of a temple, radiating malice—of _course_ his people expect the hero chosen by _Hylia_ to assist them! But he keeps himself together, refusing to lose command of himself a second time—there are people depending on him and it won't do well to be any further in their bad graces. "It is standard fare for the hero to vanquish any and _all_ sources of malice as they appear," he nearly growls. "But if you _must_ have a reason, those who can purify that sort of corruption are _exceptionally_ rare, and we know of no other."

Neither of them speaks; this time, it seems, Sidon has found the key to silencing her. What can she say to him? With everything laid bare, even she can't deny that they _need_ Link, the _hero_ , and no one else will do.

Link seems to have gone a little pale, refusing to look either of them in the eye. Zelda keeps her hands carefully in her lap but fidgets with the hem of her skirt, watching Link closely.

Sidon is grateful for her silence, but every passing second of _Link's_ gets more infuriating. He had heard that the hero _"chose his words carefully,"_ according to the priests, or that he seemed to believe strongly that actions spoke louder than words according to the knights, but this far surpasses all of that. Link hasn't said a _single_ word, not even having the sense to politely decline his request. No—Sidon had heard that Link was quiet, but he had heard plenty to know that he _did_ talk.

So why doesn't he now?

Is he like Zelda, so infuriated with his presence, but refusing to talk rather than talking _too much_ like she had? Or does he merely think that he doesn't need to deign to speak to someone asking what he seems to believe is a trivial request?

Their silence persists, and finally Prince Sidon has had enough. He stands gracefully, his two attendants immediately rising behind him. "If you have no further questions, I would like to leave you time to dwell on the matter properly. It is no small task and I do not wish to make you feel that you must decide immediately."

Sometimes, Sidon likes to think, even he can manage to say things that surprise himself.

Of course he needs an answer _right now_ —if Link refuses, he'll have precious little time to try and find a solution, or at least delay the inevitable. But everything he's been taught says he can't admit that aloud, and so he doesn't.

"Yes, of course. Thank you, Your Highness," Zelda responds, bowing her head in respect as she doesn't seem willing to remove herself from Link's lap. Link does no such thing, just watches cautiously as Sidon offers a bow in return.

"If you have need of me, or if you make a decision, we will be camping in the river."

.

They stay politely quiet on their walk through the town, but the moment the prince believes any of the Hylians to be out of earshot, he immediately speaks what's on his mind.

"How _dare_ he," he growls. "How selfish can you be, to be gifted with power from the Goddess and still refuse to use it for its purpose?"

Rivan clears his throat behind Sidon. "Are you sure selfishness is his motivation?"

Dunma snorts. "Father, you always have tried to see the best in people. You _did_ see the way they sat together, didn't you? It's obvious he just doesn't want to leave her. It's like they're engaged!"

Sidon shakes his head and frowns. "No, if there's anything I'm certain of, it's that his motivation isn't her, at least not entirely. He was _nervous_ , of all things! Our hero, _a coward_. I'm quite certain she did that to keep him from attempting to run."

There's a pause, but Sidon figures Dunma must have shrugged—he's sure she doesn't believe him. "Whatever you wish to believe, Your Highness, but he _was_ sleeping in her house. How brazen!"

Sidon shakes his head again, putting his palm against his brow. "I don't know. Frankly, I don't know what to make of it. But we can't leave until he accepts our request—we don't have any other choices.

Rivan takes a long breath. "Then we must determine what makes him so reluctant to leave."

"Hmm," Sidon hums. "And we do everything we can in the meantime."

.

"Everything they can" started with a letter. His father _must_ know that they found Link, that he _refused_. The other groups searching for him can be called back to assist in the Zora Domain, rather than wasting time on what is quickly becoming a hopeless endeavor.

Rivan sits beside the campfire, grilling sticks of fish, and Dunma sits across from Sidon watching him closely.

"Prince Sidon, with all respect, that letter won't write its damn self. You're going to have to start with _something_ ," Dunma says.

Sidon laughs. "I know… but how can I tell my father that the hero has abandoned us to our plight?"

Dunma shrugs. "Just tell him the truth." She reaches for two sticks of fish, passing the larger of the two to Sidon. " 'Dear father, Master Link has refused to assist us and is, by all accounts, a self-centered ass,' " she mocks, mimicking Sidon's political tone. "See, not so hard, is it?"

Prince Sidon rolls his eyes. "Dunma, I can't skip all the details, even if it's Father. No, it would have to be 'a self-centered, _arrogant_ ass.' The detail makes it more formal, you see."

They smirk at each other, Dunma crossing her arms. "By Hylia, I can't stand him!" she groans.

Rivan finally takes note of their conversation, Dunma's complaints loud enough to reach his ears. "To think, he seemed so sweet when he came to visit when Princess Mipha was chosen as a champion." Rivan shakes his head and Sidon raises a brow. "I suppose age can corrupt even the best of us."

"You met him as a child?" Sidon asks. He knows of the visit, of course—he'll always remember the day Mipha left the Zora Domain with crystal clarity. But he'd been too busy saying his goodbyes to care much about a young Hylian, and it was only after their departure that he'd learned the young boy had been the _hero_.

Rivan nods. "I'm not sure how old he was in Hylian terms, but he was a lot smaller than he is now. Very energetic, played with the children, talked your ear off if you'd let him. Frankly, he wasn't any different from normal children as far as I could tell." A small frown plays on Rivan's lips. " _Quite_ different than he is now, I would think."

Prince Sidon crosses his arms, chewing on his bottom lip as he thinks through the information. "Well, he can't be a _completely_ different person. Tell me everything you remember—something is bound to have remained the same."


	5. Differing Strategies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my updating continues to be sporadic, but I haven't forgotten~ ^^

Sidon should have known better than to ask someone with children to recount stories that involved said child.

Most of what Rivan recounted was stories about Dunma, things either tangentially related or not related at all and merely something he was reminded of.

After a couple of hours, Sidon feels like he hasn't learned _anything_ pertinent beyond Rivan's initial description and finally calls it quits. "I don't think this is helping," he groans. "By all means, you're right—it sounds like he was like every child."

Dunma frowns, looking sort of flustered from all of her father's embarrassing stories but not so much as to remain silent. "Then, do you think…" she pauses. "Do you think it happened after the battle with Calamity Ganon?"

Sidon grits his teeth.

Calamity Ganon.

The monster that stole his sister, and countless other lives.

Countless other lives, except for the hero's. Link had been the sole survivor, and the only one who knew all the details of what occurred during the battle. But while he knew, he remained completely silent on the matter, and grew quieter by the day afterwards.

Frankly, Prince Sidon doesn't blame him. They don't know what occurred, true, but they do know the _aftermath_. The aftermath that left all four champions dead and Hyrule Castle and its surrounding area in shambles. Aftermath that left Calamity Ganon _sealed,_ not _destroyed._

People whispered that maybe the hero was a failure, for allowing so much destruction and being unable to _finish_ the job. Prince Sidon doesn't _like_ him, but he doesn't think it's fair to blame everything on him, either—after all, he would have never sought him out if he truly didn't believe he was the hero he was meant to be.

But to stand before him and watch him refuse to even _try_? Now he was beginning to think that perhaps he'd been the naïve one, thoughts clouded by faith.

Sidon shakes his head and forces himself back to the present. "Perhaps," he mutters. "But even if it is, I'm not sure that answers our question of why he won't leave."

Dunma laughs. "Of course it does. He failed before, I doubt he wants another chance to blight his reputation."

The prince groans, rolling his eyes. "He's the _hero_ , shouldn't he wish to redeem himself?" She shrugs. "Perhaps he feels overwhelmed," he whispers.

"By the weight of the request? But it's problems like this that he was _born_ to solve, it wouldn't make sense." _She's right_. It's perplexing—Sidon has never heard of a hero trying to shirk their duty the way Link is now. It's _unprecedented_ , a new problem. One that makes him wonder if the people are right, that he's not _truly_ the hero.

"I'm going to try to speak with him again tomorrow," he decides. " _Alone_."

.

Rest seems impossible to find. Sidon's mind is a mess of thoughts, of strategies to ensure that Link responded as he _should_. But nothing meets his standards, as if there's one thing Sidon is certain of, it is that Link will _definitely not_ respond as he predicts.

Morning comes and Sidon finds himself both exhausted and out of ideas. He closes his eyes, listening to the water rushing past him and makes a mental note of his progress.

_He's overwhelmed, that_ has _to be it. And if he's overwhelmed, I need to speak to him, individually._

Going to Link as a _prince_ failed spectacularly. His posture, speech, his entire _demeanor_ seemed to intimidate him from the first. Worse yet, he seemed to use the girl as a shield to avoid his responsibilities.

No, he won't let that happen again. He will do everything in his power to put the hero at ease and demand to speak to him one on one. And if treating it diplomatically made things worse, then he will go for a personal approach.

He kicks off the ground, letting his head bob at the top of the river. Rivan and Dunma are already up for the day; Rivan sits by the riverside tending to a fire and several sticks of fish while Dunma holds a spear at the ready to catch more.

"Good morning," Sidon murmurs.

Rivan perks up. "Good morning, Your Highness." Sidon paddles to the shore as Rivan reaches for a fish. "Dunma said you wished to try speaking to Link again?"

Sidon nods, taking the fish and eating half of it in one bite. "Ideally without the Hylian girl this time," he adds, careful to finish chewing before he speaks.

Rivan tilts his head in understanding. "A fair goal. Let us know when you wish to leave and we will accompany you."

"Unfortunately, Rivan, I fear he may feel outnumbered if it's the three of us again. I intend to go by myself."

Sidon finishes his fish while Rivan appears to work through it in his head. "Alone?" he murmurs. "Your Highness, do you think that's wise so far from the Domain?"

He shrugs. "It doesn't matter whether or not it's wise, I'd be a fool not to do everything in my power to gain Link's trust, and it's a small risk in a town like this."

"Very well. But we will remain in town, should you require assistance," the elder Zora says.

"Thank you, Rivan," he says. He eats several more fish in a notably un-princely fashion, carefully removing all of his jewelry and finery as he does. "Rivan, do you still have that old cloak?" he asks, one of the sticks pushed to the side of his mouth. "I believe he may respond better if he feels it is less… formal."

Rivan notes the growing pile of adornments and looks at the prince with brows furrowed. "I do…" he murmurs, reaching towards his bag and digging for a moment. Once he locates it, he passes it hesitantly to Sidon.

If things weren't so dire, he'd probably find Rivan's confusion amusing. Instead he takes the cloak wordlessly, carefully pulling it over his shoulders. It has two pieces, an outer layer of teal fabric and golden thread with an under layer of navy blue. It's much smaller on him than the elder Zora, the fabric reaching only the middle of his thighs, but it has worn with age and seems to do a decent job making Sidon appear more casually. "This will do, thank you," he says, strapping his sword to his hip.

Prince Sidon takes one more fish from the fire and makes his way over to the letter he'd abandoned the night before. He can't put it off, no matter how much he may wish to, and judging the hour Link had awoken the day before, he's fairly certain going to town _now_ would be a waste of time.

He grits his teeth and sits down, cursing the formalities of their people as he spends an hour writing a letter that he's certain could be stated simply as something like _"found the hero, will try to get him to cooperate despite his apparent cowardice."_

When he finishes, he folds it neatly and passes it to Rivan. "While you're in town, I need you to deliver this," he says. He adjusts the cloak, unused to its weight, then straightens his posture. "I will return before dusk." Rivan nods and Sidon walks away before he can voice more complaints with the prince's current plan.

Judging by the sky, Sidon suspects it is nearly noon. _Still a little early to try Link again_ , he thinks. But he can't waste time waiting for him to be ready. Instead he walks through the town, asking around about the hero to see if anyone knows him better.

The first person he asks can only tell him what he already knows. He asks more detailed questions, but to no avail, ultimately thanking her for her time and moving on. It seems everyone he asks ends up telling him something more or less the same, until he finds an older couple sitting on a bench together at the town plaza.

"He's very quiet, that one. Don't think he's said a word the whole time he's been here," the older woman tells him.

The older man pipes in, "Secretive, more like it."

"But kind," the woman adds.

"Yes, that seems to be the consensus people have reached," Sidon murmurs, becoming cynical of his own plan to gain information.

The woman sighs. "Yes, he does seem to keep to himself. A shame, he seems like a caring young man."

The man laughs, looking towards Sidon. "When he came to town four years ago she was hoping he'd be a good fit for our granddaughter, so she's always been rather disappointed with his solitude."

Sidon raises a brow. "He's been here for four years?"

The woman nods. "Blew into town one morning looking for an inn and ended up moving in. From what I've heard, he was probably a runaway but looked like such a mess that trying to get him to go back didn't feel right."

He cocks his head, lips parted. _One lie won't hurt._ "Did you meet him, back then? I'm afraid I last saw him when we were children, you see, and I'm trying to get a feel for the person he is now."

"Well, in a town this small it was impossible not to at least _know_ about him," the man starts.

"Popular gossip for a few months," the older woman added. Sidon laughed and the man shot her a glance. "He stayed in the inn for a couple of weeks before he moved into one of the old houses in the isles. It was pretty rundown as I understand, but he just seemed glad to have somewhere to go. Like I said, probably a runaway of some sort." _A runaway indeed,_ Sidon thinks. _Deserter, more like._ Sidon wouldn't say that people who flee battle and duty are anything comparable to people fleeing poor living conditions in their homes.

"Anyway he had no money to speak of, so he's been working as a farmhand in the isles. Seems he's always with young Zelda when he visits town, not sure he visits for anything else at this point," the man explains.

The woman raises a finger and offers Sidon a crinkly smile. "The library," she says. "That's usually where I'll find them when he's in town."

Prince Sidon smiles. "It seems he is much changed since we last met, but thank you for your time. I think it will aid me greatly when I see him next."

The couple smiles in return. "We're glad to help," they say in near perfect unison.

Fifteen minutes later, Sidon finds himself sitting on the bridge in the center of town, a few streets away from the old couple. He lets his feet dangle in the water, mulling over what they told him.

_A runaway with nothing to his name_.

It didn't contradict anything he'd heard, didn't seem impossibly different from the person he'd met. If what they'd said was true, Link had been something of a mess when he'd arrived, though in what way Sidon wouldn't know.

What could he possibly think gave him the right to run from everything, abandon everyone, and then refuse to perform his sacred duty?

He kicks his feet back and forth in the water, finding himself squeezing his hands into a fist. _He has no right. He has no right to leave us like this, not when we need him._ He feels his nails digging into his scales and loosens his grip, pulling his tail over his shoulder and fiddling with it instead. His growing hatred for the hero would not save his people.

_The library, then?_

The building proves easy to find, though he imagines the same could be said for everything in such a small community. He opens the door and bows his head slightly as he walks inside, the back of his tail brushing against the doorframe.

The front room is empty, save for bookshelves that are only a little taller than he is. He wonders how remote this village must be, for its people to leave things so precious as this unguarded. He notices some chairs spread out and a couple of tables, but still no signs that someone is here.

_Where could he be, if not here?_ He wonders, running his fingers across the spines of the books as he makes his way towards the back of the room. Zelda's home, he supposes, but seeing him there would prove useless to the prince.

He stops in his tracks when he sees a door in the back, several inches ajar. _Maybe he's here after all_. Sidon adjusts his cloak as he opens the door, gritting his teeth for a number of potential unpleasant surprises.

Sidon instead finds himself gazing softly at the sleeping figure of the hero, curled up in a chair in the corner of the room. The light from the window fell onto his face, and judging by the book in his hand it seemed he'd been reading by it.

Sidon hums to himself. _Perhaps I should let him rest._ It wouldn't do him well to irritate the boy any further.

He removes his outer cloak, gingerly placing it over Link and quietly stepping back. Then he reaches for a book on the table and sits in a chair in the corner across from Link. Yet he finds himself only flipping through pages, eyes focused on the hero instead. The cloak suits him, the golden threat glinting in the sunlight and seeming to match his hair. He seems to curl into it, readjusting himself to sleep more comfortably.

But Link does not seem to rest easy. Sidon hears faint gasps coming from him, sees him twitch. He realizes he's squeezing the book he's holding, knuckles white despite his sleep. Maybe he _should_ wake him, if he is not resting well.

But it is not his right to choose, knowing him so poorly.

_It doesn't matter, he's having a nightmare._ And Sidon knew how terrible those could be.

He grits his teeth once more, moving to kneel before the small Hylian and gently shaking him awake.


	6. Careful Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe someday I'll treat each POV as a chapter instead of splitting it into pieces, but for now here it is ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Link wakes with a jolt, eyes wide and staring at Sidon with what seemed to be growing displeasure.

"Forgive me, Link, it seemed you were having a nightmare," Sidon says. Link doesn't move, eyes unwavering, and Sidon finds himself holding his wrists in discomfort. A few more seconds of silence from the hero, and Sidon continues. "I did not mean to interrupt you—I had come meaning to speak with you privately, but if you would like to go back to sleep, I will leave."

The Hylian blinks, loosening his grip on his book and sitting up a little bit straighter. _I'll take that as a 'no,' then…_

Sidon nods and stands, carefully pulling over a wooden stool to sit in front of the Hylian—far enough back that he hopes Link doesn't feel as if he's trying to corner him. "I was hoping to understand why you've refused," he begins, noting the sour look on Link's face the moment he said _refused_. "I do not wish to bother you, truly, but if I know why you've refused then it would help me tremendously in deciding how to move forward."

Link breaks his gaze, setting his book down in his lap and drawing his fingers across the cloak. His eyes flicker from the cloak to Sidon a couple of times. He stares at the cloak a moment before narrowing his eyes at Sidon.

"Oh, um… you looked cold," he murmurs. "I can take it back, if you'd rather," he offers.

The Hylian's grip tightens and his expression softens. He crosses his legs under the cloak, leaning forward from his chair slightly as if he's finally begun to wake up. Sidon rubs his wrist nervously. _I hope I'm reading him right…_ Zelda seemed to understand him with nothing more than a glance—if he was hoping to carry this conversation without anyone else, he was going to have to do the same. But he had also brought her a book, used it when looks weren't enough for him.

"Do you write?" he blurts out. "Er, I don't want you to feel as if this is one-sided, that is…"

Link looks down, balling up part of the cloak in his hand. He gives a subtle shake of his head, not meeting Sidon's eyes.

 _So he dislikes the_ _idea of communication, not speech, then…_ Or maybe he simply struggles with it—Sidon watches as his lips part for a moment, a frustrated look on his face as nothing comes out.

 _This won't go anywhere if I can't figure out a way to understand him,_ he decides.

"Yesterday," he starts. "You seemed to use a book—would that help?"

Link watches him again and sighs, an unreadable expression crossing his face. He pulls himself out of his chair, drawing the cloak over his shoulders and lazily moving over to the table at the center of the room. Sidon moves to stand across from him, carefully stacking books to clear the surface.

Link spends a few minutes pulling books off the shelves and flipping through them, seeming to look for something in particular. Sidon stands patiently, wanting to offer his assistance but knowing he'd just get in his way. Finally, Link seems to find what he's looking for and lays the book flat in front of the prince, pointing at a phrase.

_"Go away."_

Link watches him with narrowed eyes and Prince Sidon holds back a grimace. "I can come back later, if you'd rather…" he murmurs.

Link shakes his head, pointing at it again.

Sidon sighs, staring at Link apologetically. "It's as I said yesterday—I cannot return to my people with so little to tell them." Sidon clasps his hands together, as Link pulls the book away and returns it to its shelf. "I know you probably don't believe me, but I truly do not wish to bother you. But if I return without being able to tell them that I'd tried everything I could, I'll be a failure to them."

Link pauses for a moment and Sidon wonders if he's struck a chord.

"If I don't do whatever I can here, then I'll have failed my responsibilities to them."

Sidon thinks he sees Link shudder for a moment before he begins looking through books again.

"So I'll ask one more time—why have you refused?" he says, doing his best to soften his gaze. Link doesn't seem to pay attention, still searching through books for something to say. Sidon can imagine how irritated he must be, to have Sidon standing before him refusing to leave until he gives him what he wants.

Sidon does his best to be patient while Link searches, instead focusing his thoughts on how difficult it must be to try and communicate with someone using nothing but phrases in books. _I've really asked a lot of him, haven't I,_ he realizes. He hadn't seemed pleased to do it for Zelda yesterday, and now a stranger was asking him to not only do it again, but more.

But Link continues searching, seeming to grow more frustrated with each passing minute as whatever he's searching for evades him.

Maybe he should say something, or maybe that would just irritate him even further. No—it's best to sit and wait until he finds what he's looking for, as impatient as Sidon is beginning to feel.

Sidon doesn't know how long Link looks before he places another book on the table. It's a memoir of some sort, but Link is once again focused only on one sentence.

_"I have failed my duties."_

Sidon quietly repeats it to himself, vaguely noticing Link's shudder as he voices the words.

He doesn't know what he was expecting. Something short, certainly, by the nature of their communication. But not something so straight to the point, something that simultaneously matched everything he'd heard from the wake of Calamity Ganon's destruction and yet was completely different—an acknowledgement of his failures, not as a selfish declaration to avoid work, but strong belief that he isn't capable.

Sidon finds himself grinning, clapping his hands together and leaning forward in a way that has Link curling into the cloak a little more. "But surely if it is just a lack of confidence then the solution is simple! The Goddess is giving you another chance to redeem yourself, both to the people _and_ you!" He offers Link his hand, still beaming. "Come with me, help my people—I have the utmost faith in you that together we can do this!"

Link seems to shrink again, his expression quickly twisting to irritation. He shakes his head, giving Sidon a sour glance as he shrugs the cloak off of his shoulders. Link heaps the cloak on the table, offering Sidon one last glance before leaving the room.

_That… didn't go very well._

.

Prince Sidon rests his elbow on the table, leaning his head on his hand and staring at the plate of food ahead of him. Dunma and Rivan sit across from him, both having already finished their meals. They're sitting at a table in the town's inn, which os apparently a popular place for the villagers to eat, but Sidon wants nothing to do with his dinner.

Rivan clears his throat and Dunma breaks the uncomfortable silence. "I take it speaking to him didn't go very well?" she asks.

Prince Sidon groans, burying his face in his hands. "I think he hates me, actually."

"What makes you say that?" Rivan asks.

Sidon almost laughs. "He's left in the middle of every conversation I've tried to hold with him," he mutters. "I don't expect him to _speak_ to me, either, but he'd just rather avoid me."

Rivan frowns. "Then try again tomorrow, Your Highness. He has to relent eventually, I'm sure," he says.

Sidon shakes his head. "No, I'm fairly certain he could spend weeks watching me squirm while he doesn't tell me anything new."

Dunma laughs, then immediately covers her face in embarrassment. "Sounds about right," she mutters.

"Dunma!" Rivan snaps.

She shrugs. "Sorry Father… But he's not _wrong_ , Link doesn't seem to care."

Sidon frowns. "Well… that _was_ the one thing I think I learned today. I believe he blames himself."

Dunma blinks. "For Calamity Ganon's attack?" Sidon nods. "Forgive me—I know your sister was one—but wasn't that a failure of him _and_ the Champions?"

Prince Sidon shakes his head, wincing at the mention of his sister. "Well, that's been our assumption, yes. But frankly, seeing as Link was the only survivor, we can't be certain what he may know that we don't." He sighs, placing his hands in his lap. "It has always been the popular opinion of the commonfolk that the failure with Calamity Ganon was solely his fault. I have never been one to wish to place blame on him, tempting as it may be, but if I'm right and he blames himself, then there _must_ be something missing."

"The parts he's never spoken about," Dunma says. Sidon nods again. "I can't imagine you'll be able to convince him to tell you, seeing how long he lasted without telling anyone he actually _knew_."

"And there lies the problem. I can't talk to him unless I know what happened, and he doesn't want to tell me."

"How frustrating indeed," Rivan says.

They sit in silence for awhile, Sidon slowly picking at his food. This whole effort is beginning to feel pointless. They should have known—Link had disappeared overnight with only a note that implied not to search for him, yet here they were, doing just that. He can't say he's entirely surprised that Link refused, and continues to refuse, knowing how he left. Yet at the same time he can't understand how he can refuse his goddess-given duties so easily, like they mean nothing to him.

Sidon becomes increasingly aware of how many eyes are on the trio, not quite unwelcome but certainly the center of the town's gossip. After twenty minutes of picking at his food, Sidon is ready to give up and return to camp for the night, but Ima, it seems, has other plans for him.

She walks over to their table, pulling a chair over and sitting down beside Prince Sidon and smiling. "I'd heard you were eating here and thought it might be best to speak to you myself," she says.

Prince Sidon blinks, not prepared for this impromptu meeting but grateful for it nonetheless, as he's certain she has something important to say. "You're always most welcome, Lady Ima," he offers. He raises a hand, signaling for Rivan and Dunma to leave and they oblige—whatever she has to say, he suspects it's only meant for _him_.

After Rivan and Dunma relocate to a nearby table, she begins. "My Zelda tells me you went to speak to Link today," she says, and Sidon winces, wondering how bad it must have been if he told Zelda about the meeting. "I realize neither is happy about your presence here—Link, especially, never seems to want his past to catch up to him."

Sidon cocks his head. "Did you know he was the hero?" he asks. "I was given the impression that he has not informed anyone."

Ima laughs, crossing her hands in her lap. "He may have done well to fool the rest of the townspeople, but I would know the hero anywhere—especially when he shows up on my doorstep only shortly after attempting to vanish." She smiles again, leaning forward. "True, I barely saw him when he first moved here, but it only took three months for him to start visiting for Zelda, and under a year for him to be a regular presence in my home. If he was hoping to hide anything from me, he would have been better off never even introducing himself."

The prince furrows his brows, uncertain of what to think of her. Clearly, if she knew Link was the hero the whole time as she'd just claimed, that would explain why she was so willing to introduce him to Sidon. "But if you knew… why didn't you send him back? There is much and more for him to do, yet you sat silent—why?"

Ima smiles, placing her elbows on the table and leaning onto her hands like Sidon had before. "My dear Sidon, how old do you think I am?" she asks, with a sincerity that Sidon wondered if she truly meant for him to answer.

"Um… you'll forgive me if I'm uncertain how to answer that," he says.

She starts laughing again, not at all surprised by his response. "How's this, then—are you familiar with the name Impa?"

Sidon furrows his brows. "Princess Zelda's personal bodyguard and a member of the Sheikah tribe, yes." He pauses. "Do you mean to imply that's who you are?"

The older woman gives a soft nod. "Quick to catch on, are you? Yes, I am Impa. I trust you know to keep this in utmost confidence, otherwise I cannot tell you what I know."

Prince Sidon tilts his head. "Yes, of course—I will tell no one."

"Good, then let us start with the matter of my charge, Princess Zelda."


	7. Silent Issues

Zelda was not sure that she had ever seen Link in such a state.

His hair is a mess, ruffled with a couple of leaves and twigs sticking out of it. His skin is scratched and covered in mud—he'd clearly fallen over at some point but yet it seemed to be the least of his concerns. She rubs her eyes, trying to shake off the sleep and pulls her braid over her shoulder. "What're you doing here…?"

It's when Link does not answer, cannot even look at her that she realizes there must be more to this than she realizes. She asks him questions he doesn't seem to hear, his mind clearly somewhere else.

Here he was, hours after dark, clearly distressed enough that he didn't wish to be alone and can't even explain it to her. It was… concerning, to put it mildly.

She moves her hands down his shoulders, tightening her grip to comfort him. "You're safe, Link. Look at me, what do you need?"

His face is a mix of emotions as she speaks, but this time he _does_ seem to hear her, and she supposes that's all she can ask. But then he _does_ speak, and she doesn't know what to make of it.

"Tell me a secret," he whispers. Then he shakes his head, "No, never mind."

_A secret._ She had more than enough to choose from—a memory, something she hadn't shared with him before, or perhaps something about herself that she didn't often tell.

But the look on his face as she closes the door and nudges him over to the bed suggest that he is looking for something more.

She's not sure what makes her choose her deepest secret—maybe she was always looking for an excuse to tell him and here he was, providing one for her.

"A secret," she answers. Zelda reaches over and pulls a leaf out of his hair, watching his lips move though making no sound. "Alright, a real secret then. Something you can't tell anyone else." She holds up her hand, raising her pinky. "Swear?"

He cooperates, and Zelda carefully pulls her lace glove off her hand, allowing him to see the image of the Triforce. "This is why I want to learn combat," she says.

A secret, and an answer she knows he's been searching for, though he's never pried as that would be like allowing her to pry into him, as well.

"It's the Triforce of Wisdom and I am its guardian, though I'm not really certain why," she offers as Link remains silent. His expression changes slightly, to something almost like _fear_ , but she continues. "I can't say that I would have _wanted_ to carry it but… I will protect it. I will do my duty." _It's all I_ can _do,_ she thinks.

Link doesn't answer, instead wincing and clenching his jaw. She watches as he shuts his eyes and struggles to take a breath, her concern growing as he seems to grow more and more distant.

Zelda reaches forward and takes his hands into hers. "Are you alright?" she whispers. He wears a vacant expression, and she can feel his hands shaking, see his body trembling.

No, now she is certain that she has never seen him in a state like this.

She pulls him closer, letting him rest his head on her shoulder. He squeezes her hands, breath shaking. She's not sure how long he sits there—she keeps her own breathing steady, gently draws circles on his hand with her thumb. She doubts it helps, but it keeps her mind occupied as she waits for him to calm down a little.

Maybe this had happened earlier that night, maybe this was why he'd come to see her. She never asked him where he'd come from before he'd arrived in their village, but his reluctance to discuss it and general demeanor had always left her suspecting that it was not _good_. But this, whatever was upsetting him, solidified that idea and proved to her that it's worse than she'd originally thought.

But the reasoning doesn't matter right now, with Link in no frame of mind to explain himself and Zelda having no useful knowledge on the matter.

Eventually, Link's breathing begins to steady. She lets him pull away first, taking it as a sign that he's calmed down at least a little from before. He doesn't look at her, his eyes focused on their hands instead as he fidgets with his fingers.

Zelda lets the silence continue for a few more minutes, watching to make sure he stays steady while trying to think of what to say.

Eventually, she whispers, "Does that… happen often?"

Link freezes for a moment, eyes darting away from her before offering a shaky nod.

She nearly asks _'why didn't you tell me?'_ but thinks better of it—Link has never been one that likes to seem vulnerable, and that alone answers her question. Instead she gives his hands a comforting squeeze. "Do you… want to talk about it?" she asks.

He shakes his head, leaning back against the wall and letting his head tilt back until he's looking at the ceiling. He's still shaking, breath still uneven, but he shuts his eyes and tries to take deep breaths to steady himself.

She waits for an hour, not sure if she should say something more or leave him alone entirely, and deciding it's best to simply wait and see if he needs her anymore. But after awhile, he falls asleep like that, slowly leaning more and more to his left until she reaches forward to gently rest him on the bed and cover him in her blanket.

Whatever's going on with him, she knows she can do nothing about it now.

She leaves the room quietly, taking a quilt and a pillow from the closet in the hallway before making herself a bed on the floor and forcing herself to try to sleep.

When was the last time Link had stayed overnight at her house? He was constantly visiting, but he always insisted on staying at the inn if he was going to be in town for more than a day. The few times he had stayed, she'd made a makeshift bed for him downstairs, as he was very insistent on staying out of her way.

And here he is, asleep on her bed and probably doing exactly what he's always wanted to avoid—she just hopes he'll realize that she doesn't mind, is only concerned with his well-being.

.

Zelda wakes up a little after sunrise the next morning. A faint gasp from Link reminds her of the night before and she shoots up, looking over to him to make sure he's still okay.

He doesn't seem to be having a _pleasant_ dream, but it was a dream nonetheless, and she reasons letting him sleep is best at the moment.

The morning light also makes it easier for her to see how much of a mess he is. She quietly pulls herself out of bed, sliding out of her bedroom almost silently. Grandma didn't seem to be awake yet, judging by the house's silence and her closed bedroom door, so Zelda creeps down the stairs and retrieves a bucket of water from the kitchen and a towel from the closet. She gently places them beside her bedroom door, watching Link carefully for any sign of movement. But he lies still, sleeping quietly as she'd hoped. She tiptoes past him and pulls a change of his clothing out of her drawer—he'd left them there with sudden rainstorms in mind, not midnight tumbles down a mountain, she's sure, but it was convenient nonetheless. Lastly, she takes a change of her own clothes, uncertain whether or not Link will wake before she needs to be dressed.

She spends the morning doing housework, patiently waiting for Grandma or Link to wake up. Grandma wakes first, lazily coming downstairs to be greeted by Zelda setting the table for three.

"You're busy this morning," Grandma says, and Zelda freezes. She glances over the table and smiles at Zelda. "Who's our guest today?"

Zelda is fairly certain Grandma sees her eyes widening, but she smiles back anyway. "Link," she says. "Though I don't know when he'll get up and I don't wish to wake him."

She pauses again.

_Does Grandma know he came?_

Zelda smiles nervously, returning to setting the table and trying _not_ to think of all the different reasons Grandma may come up with for Link staying over. She busies herself with finishing breakfast, all too aware of how Grandma is watching her all the while.

She doesn't know why she's so nervous—she doesn't have anything to _hide_ , at least, nothing she's not normally hiding.

But she doesn't feel right telling her _how_ Link came to stay last night. It seems like something _he_ should explain, that it's none of her business to go telling anyone.

"Is everything alright, dear?" Grandma asks.

_It's just Grandma,_ she thinks, _she won't tell,_ and finally relents. "Link was… well… he seemed upset about something. I'm not sure what," she says. She serves two plates of food and comes to the table, sitting across from Grandma. "But whatever it was, it seemed best to let him stay here last night," she says.

Grandma smiles back at her, taking a plate and setting it in front of her. "Well, it was good of him to come to you instead of staying in that lonely house of his." She seems a little surprised, something about her tone suggesting that she would have expected him to choose solitude, and the fact that he hadn't pleased her.

Zelda frowns. "Yeah, I guess you're right…"

They eat in a mostly comfortable silence, Zelda's exhaustion from the night before finally beginning to catch up to her. When they finish, Grandma takes their plates and pats her shoulder. "He'll be alright, dear, he's seen much worse than a bad night," she says, voice calm and comforting.

"Thank you…" she murmurs. She doesn't dwell on what Grandma said, instead grateful for the reassurance.

Grandma cleans up from breakfast while Zelda goes upstairs to dress herself properly for the day. She wears a navy blue dress and spends fifteen minutes pinning up and braiding her hair until none of it is loose.

Maybe, if Link wakes early enough, she'll take him with her while she looks for specimens for her research. He never seemed to like it when she went by herself—she would get too caught up in her studies and not pay as much attention to her surroundings as he thought she should. Zelda didn't mind that so much—she'd never had an issue protecting herself in the wilderness, but she understood where his concern came from. Either way, it was easier to do her work if _he_ was the one slinging a bow over his shoulder and not her.

Zelda cracks her bedroom door open and sees Link still sleeping quietly on the bed before she goes back downstairs.

She bides her time with her research notes. She'd heard of the shrines that had appeared after the hero's discovery, but Link had told her a few days before that he'd found one nearby, and she had every intention of seeing what she could glean by visiting one in person.

The only problem was Link's idea of "nearby," which in her experience can be anything from a couple of hours to a day's trip. And in this case, seeing as she hasn't found it herself, she suspects it was closer to a day's trip.

Her research is interrupted by a forceful knock on the door. Grandma was still doing something in the kitchen, so Zelda puts her notes down and opens the door, only to be greeted by three towering Zora.

"I'm terribly sorry to bother you, miss, but I was told I might find someone I'm looking for here."


	8. Unraveled Secrets

The prince has been gone for nearly an hour, and Zelda sits at her desk in her room silently fuming while Link—with admirable patience—sits with his legs crossed on her bed, probably waiting for her to blow.

She wants to be angry with him for not telling her that he's the _hero_ , and certainly, she is _angry_ , but she forces herself to redirect it. She has no _right_ to be angry: until last night, she'd been keeping a secret just as precious.

Instead, she takes a deep breath and turns towards Link, who appears to be bracing himself for an angry tirade.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she whispers.

Link frowns, taking a deep breath and shutting his eyes. "Because I'm not…" he clenches his hand into a fist. "I'm _not_ a hero."

It's Zelda's turn to frown as she shifts her seat to face him better. Her voice is scolding, her best attempt to bite back her anger as she doesn't want to take it out on him. "Yes, you _are_. We both know that the _sword that seals the darkness_ does _not_ pick people at random."

"Well it was wrong!" Link snaps. Zelda flinches back, not used to Link being so… loud. He looks down sheepishly, avoiding her gaze again.

"Link…" she murmurs. "That sword was made by the Goddess herself. It _wasn't_ wrong." She keeps her tone calm, takes another deep breath to hold back her anger, anger that she's still having trouble finding a target for.

Or maybe she's just angry with the Goddess.

Link folds his hands in his lap, still looking away. "Then you explain it. Tell me why I failed," he whispers. "If the sword wasn't wrong, then why was I the only one unable to complete my duties?"

She notices a slight crack in his voice as he finishes, watches as he bows his head to hide his face.

All of her anger disappears in an instant. "I don't… I don't know, I'm sorry," she whispers.

He gives a soft shake of his head, long hair obscuring his face.

More silence follows, neither able to give the other the answers they want to hear. Zelda returns to her notes, carefully gathering everything she needs to visit the shrine Link mentioned. She stuffs it all into her bag, throwing the strap over her shoulder.

Link still has his head bowed, not even budging as Zelda places her hands on his arms. "Let's go to the shrine you told me about, forget about everything for awhile."

He stays still for a moment, then finally lifts his head. His eyes and cheeks are red, but otherwise he seems to have pulled himself together and he nods, putting his hands over hers.

.

Link has his bow in hand and a sword—she's never seen that before—strapped to his back. Their hike to the shrine is a relief, neither one speaking to the other or expecting answers to difficult questions, instead just a comfortable silence and the trust they'd spent years building. Link guides her with ease, following the mountain path for an hour before heading into the wilderness proper. Another hour, and Link has finally managed to take her far enough into the forest that she no longer recognizes where she is.

"How much farther is it?" she asks.

Link shrugs.

"Close then?"

"Close enough," he murmurs.

She follows him with a faint smile, and for a moment she forgets the morning's debacle, her thoughts absorbed in the idea of seeing her first shrine in person.

"What do they look like?"

Link shrugs. "Same as your books," he murmurs.

She frowns. "I know but… what did _you_ see? The illustrations I've gathered are good, but nothing compares to firsthand experience."

He laughs, turning his head back towards her for a moment. _He's smiling…_ It's been a while, she realizes, since he's felt this at ease, even with her. "Tall," he whispers. "And they glow."

Zelda smiles, jogging forward to walk beside him. "How tall? What color? Do they always glow? Any noises, smells?" Her mind races as she inundates him with more and more questions until Link is laughing so hard that she can't help but laugh too. "Please Link, how far is it?" she begs.

Link doesn't answer, instead smiles and offers his hand to her.

She takes it, and in an instant they're running ahead, deftly avoiding fallen trees and debris to reach their destination.

It only takes a few minutes for them to reach a clearing, and Zelda can see the towering structure at the center of it, glowing brilliant orange. She gasps, dropping Link's hand.

"It's… awe-inspiring," she whispers.

Link grins next to her, a smug look about him. A look that says he's been waiting to show her, though she doesn't know how long he's known it's here. Zelda moves to run towards it but Link grabs her hand again, smiling softly as he carefully spins her until she's looking behind them.

Behind them, where she realizes the shrine is overlooking the entire valley. The village is far below them, almost too small for her to see. The Floating Isles lie nestled in the clouds, closer than the village but still too far to make out details. Past the village is the varying hues of the forest, the river that the Zora probably used to come, and another line of mountains making it impossible to see any farther.

She'd never had a view of the valley as clear as this—the clouds and fog make it nearly impossible to see below the Floating Isles, and most of the mountain is too heavily forested for a clear view of anything.

"How did you find this?" she whispers.

Link freezes, the smile disappearing from his face. But before she can say anything else, he sighs and reaches for a pouch strapped to his hip. He pulls out a small, rectangular object and holds it up for her. "Sheikah slate," he murmurs.

She reaches for it instinctively, pulling it out of his hands and immediately starting to fiddle with it. "How does it work?" He laughs again, tapping the top of it and her eyes widen as it glows and an image appears on the top. "This is amazing! You said it showed you the shrine? How?"

Link takes it back, holding it in a manner that both could see, and presses a button on the side, bringing up a new image. The slate begins to make a blinking sound, and as Link turns it she realizes it's louder if he points it at the shrine.

She grabs the slate from him again, running towards the shrine and poking at the different buttons and screens until she begins to figure out how it works. Link lays down on the grass, listening as Zelda mutters to herself and closing his eyes.

It doesn't take her long to realize the Sheikah slate can instantly create pictures of whatever she points it at, so she circles the shrine taking pictures until she's certain she's documented everything she can.

Then she moves to take pictures of other things—Link laying, or maybe sleeping now, in the grass, the view of the village, close up images of some of the plants…

_Maybe he took pictures,_ she realizes. She sits cross-legged on the grass, resting the slate in her lap as she maneuvers through the photo gallery to the beginning.

And sure enough, he did.

Most of the early images are unrecognizable to her—old ruins, sometimes with robed figures in them. Several pairs of shrine photos, with the same shrine glowing orange in one picture, then blue in the next. Then more photos of the ruins again, and some forested area that nearly took her breath away.

But the strangest to her were images of a castle, something about them letting her feel so close to them that she could nearly feel the cold stone beneath her feet, or the plush of the rugs.

She presses forward through some more unidentifiable images until she crosses a group picture of a Goron, Gerudo, Rito, Zora, and a young Hylian. _Is that…_ She zooms in on the boy, noting blond hair held in a ponytail, blue eyes, and pointed ears with a single blue earring in each. _That's Link, isn't it,_ she realizes.

"How old were you," she says mindlessly, but out of the corner of her eyes she sees Link lift his head to look at her before sitting up. She holds the slate over so he can see. "In this picture. You look so young…"

Link lets himself fall back onto the grass, holding his hands together on his chest. "Seven," he whispers. "It was the first time I met the Champions."

Zelda frowns, looking back at the picture. Link had a wide smile, flanked on both sides by the Champions who looked like a mix of proud and excited.

Honored, maybe, to be protecting their people. An honor that she knew they'd died for not shortly after.

She closes the photo gallery and walks over to Link, sliding the Sheikah slate into his hands. "I'm sorry," she whispers.

Link keeps his eyes closed, humming softly to himself. "It doesn't matter anymore."

She's not sure that she believes him, but she doesn't want to argue, not after their day. _He's had to share more than enough for one day; I can leave this be._

But there is one thing she cannot leave alone. She lays down on the grass beside him, closing her eyes like he had. "I know you probably don't want to talk about it," she whispers. "But last night--"

"I don't remember," Link immediately says. "I don't remember last night."

Zelda reaches over, putting her hand on his arm. "Nothing?" she asks.

"Very little," he answers.

She listens to the wind rustling through the grass for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her skin.

"It scared me," she murmurs. "To see you that distraught."

Link shifts to put his hand over hers, his own way of apologizing, not that she thinks he needed to. Zelda stays quiet again, the whisper of the breeze nearly lulling her to sleep.

"You told me it happens a lot," she says. "If you feel like that again, I…" she opens her eyes and looks towards him. "Come to me like you did last night, you don't have to shoulder everything alone."

His mouth moves as he seems to try to think of what to say. "I will," he eventually settles on.

Zelda smiles. "I'm glad," she whispers.

They lie still for awhile, the wind rustling their hair and the sun slowly beginning to fade. She wonders whether or not he'll stay—the Zora prince doesn't seem likely to let this go, and Link's sense of justice seems too strong to lose to his own stubbornness.

She'd be lying if she said she wanted him to go. Logically, she does—she knows he has responsibilities, things that he _needs_ to do. But she can't imagine what it'd be like for him to be gone so long, to know that she could no longer rely on his company and support.

Maybe he feels the same, in a way.

She knows she's not the reason he refused—she's fairly certain that can be attributed to his fear of failure. But a piece of her knows that she is a _part_ of why he doesn't wish to leave.

And that trust he has, his faith in her, is why she knows she must convince him to go.

She sits up beside him, playfully shaking his arm. "Hey, Link, you're the hero—does that mean you can get into the shrines? I tried, nothing I did worked."

At this, Link opens his eyes and furrows his brows at her. "I can…"

Zelda beams. "Can I see it?"

Link sits up and laughs a little. "I guess… I guess I could try," he whispers.


	9. Shielded Shrines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry to anyone who was waiting for an update, school and other games got the best of me for awhile. As usual, I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update, but hopefully it'll be more than, well, once a year ^^;;;;;;;;

Link seems hesitant to try this, quietly walking ahead of Zelda with Sheikah slate in hand. Zelda follows, hands clasped tightly together.

She isn't sure what he meant by _he could try_. Maybe it's part of how to go inside, that he isn't sure he's able to bring someone else with. Or he was concerned about the shrine itself, though she has no idea what to expect from it.

Link steps onto the platform, tapping the Sheikah slate to the surface of what appears to be more Sheikah technology, and takes a step back as the door quickly opens itself for him.

He pauses, hand tightening around the slate. "Are you sure about this?" he whispers. "It might not be safe."

She smiles, tapping his shoulder a couple times and stepping inside. "I'm sure."

Zelda glances back and sees Link nod, still looking a little unsure of this. "It'll be fine," she says. He sighs, stepping forward.

There's a circle on the floor with the Sheikah eye etched into it, glowing bright blue; Link gently pulls her arm to bring her onto it as he steps forward. As Link steps onto the circle, a ring lights up around them.

For a moment she feels like she's falling and she grabs his arm, looking down at their feet as she realizes it's a floating platform. The wall around them glows the same blue as the circle. Zelda reaches forward, brushing her fingers against it and finding it nothing more than a wall of light, though she doesn't dare reach any further.

She pulls her hand back and wraps her arm around Link's waist, noticing how tensely he's holding his shoulders. "Thank you," she whispers, giving him a soft look. "I know you're only doing this for me."

He loosens for a moment, turning his head towards her. "It should be more than that," he mutters. Link shakes his head and looks away.

Zelda wonders how he must feel, to carry everyone's weight on his shoulders and, it seems, feel as though he can do nothing about it. It's admirable, how well he's always carried himself for how much pressure he's under. _I'd be paralyzed with fear,_ she thinks.

Below them, the light seems to grow brighter and within a moment the platform softly reaches the ground. Blue light surrounds them as they come to a halt, and a voice echoes in the back of her mind.

_To you who sets foot in this shrine… I am Chaas Qeta. In the name of the Goddess Hylia, I offer this combat trial._

"Combat…?" Link murmurs. His left hand hovers over the hilt of his sword.

"Is that normal?" Zelda asks.

He shakes his head.

Link takes a tentative step forward, drawing his sword and holding it carefully in front of him. There's a small arch ahead of them, and what appears to be a large open room past it, with only a pillar set near each corner to fill the space. They quietly step inside.

"There's a void…" she murmurs.

A giant hole at the center of the room. _That's probably not good,_ she thinks. Link gives a short nod, eyes warily set on the pit. A few more steps forward, and his grip tightens.

There's a crash behind them and both flinch in unison, turning back to see bars blocking their way to the exit. Ahead of them, she hears rumbling from the void as a machine is lifted to the floor. As she's about to speak, the machine begins to glow blue and opens up from its compact form, revealing several weapons and a shield.

Link curses under his breath, something that is _decidedly_ new to her, and immediately rushes forward with his sword held carefully, ready to strike.

Link is more than ready to deal with the machine—this she knows. But it was also her decision to come in here, and Zelda isn't one to leave Link to do all the heavy lifting for something _she_ wanted to do.

She reaches into her bag, digging through stacks of notes, plants, and research materials until she finds her dagger. It's small—she carries it to take cuttings of tougher plants—but it's better than unarmed, and _much_ better than standing by and waiting for Link to finish.

Maybe it's cheating, her helping him. This is designed to test _his_ strength, isn't it? But then she figures the shrine would have barred her entrance if it truly mattered, and she also decides _she_ _doesn't care_.

She draws her dagger, an ornate golden blade with symbols of Hylia and the three goddesses carved into it. She no longer remembers where she'd gotten it, but Grandma had told her it was a family heirloom. Certainly, it seems to have been made for a more decorative nature, but Zelda finds herself too practical to let it sit in a sheathe in a drawer.

With dagger in hand, Zelda rushes forward, carefully surveying the state of the battle. Link deftly avoids a strike from the machine's sword and narrowly rolls out of the way of its spear. The machine pulls its weapons back up and seems to notice her presence, its single eye beginning to glow.

Before she has time to react, Link tackles her as a neon blue beam shoots over them. Zelda finds herself lying on the ground while Link doesn't stop moving, already circling the machine with bow in hand.

She groans, quickly remembering how little _real_ combat experience she has. She steels herself for her next attempt, watching both of them carefully. Zelda takes a running start to circle the machine in the opposite direction of Link, allowing him to maintain its focus for a moment. She swipes at its arm he passes her, its eye still watching his movements.

The moment her blade makes contact, the machine freezes, momentarily disarming itself and beginning to back away.

"Is it—"

Once again, Link grabs ahold of her, this time pulling her arm so hard she feels like he nearly dislocated it as he begins to sprint for the column, barely giving her time to follow. Zelda finds herself lying on the ground again as Link pushes her towards to column, using the force to distance himself from her.

Not a second later, the machine barrels past them, spinning all three of its weapons in a deadly circle. Link seems unfazed, jumping over it as it passes and loosing an arrow into its eye with deadly precision.

Zelda is pushing herself off the ground again, and Link has already switched back to his sword to meet the machine in melee combat.

For a moment, she wonders how she'd fair if she'd actually _brought her weapons_ , but doesn't allow herself time to lament about something she's already regretting.

Instead, she sprints for another column. She finds no point in engaging it if she doesn't understand it, and isn't research the reason Link agreed to this in the first place? She may be lacking practice but she was far from _stupid_ , and knew better than to risk her life and get in Link's way.

His face is one of intense focus, not once glancing at her yet ever careful to keep the machine in the other half of the arena. He shoots more arrows than she can see, uses his sword in a flurry that only registers as a blur to her, raises his shield against attacks she couldn't predict even now that she's beginning to understand the machine's strategy. All the while, his movements are wholly unpredictable, making it difficult for the machine to block.

She wonders what the other shrines look like, if Link said these weren't normal. She wonders if he'd ever faced one of these machines before, with how well he anticipates its attacks, or if that was merely a mark of the hero.

Watching him fight, she realizes the gravity of his position begins to settle in.

Link is the hero, the bearer of the _sword that seals the darkness_ , the Hylian champion.

Some of the accounts she's heard suggested that he'd done everything he could when he and the champions were forced to confront Calamity Ganon, but overwhelmingly she'd heard that he'd simply _failed._

And then she remembers that picture of the champions, _seven years old_ he'd said. The confrontation with Calamity Ganon only a few years after the forming of the champions…

He had only been a child.

In an instant Zelda is consumed with rage, angry with everyone who had accepted sending a child to fight for his life, for the lives of everyone, for blaming him when, by some miracle, that child sealed Calamity Ganon even after the deaths of all of his allies.

Her grip tightens on her dagger, eyes narrowing as Link continues his careful dance around the machine. She hurls the blade at it, yelling as she does. For a split second, she sees Link falter, and her blade seems almost as if it glows as it flies through the air. The machine looks her way as her yell dies out, only to be met with her dagger burying itself into its eye.

As the dagger meets its mark, the machine seems to buckle under its weight, glowing an even brighter blue. Link takes a hesitant step back as it explodes, pieces of metal and machinery flying around it and settling in a cloud of dust. At the center of the explosion, her dagger glitters golden as always, surrounded by screws and the machine's discarded weapons.

Link watches her for a moment, blinking away his own surprise before approaching the machine's remnants. Zelda comfortably jogs over, laughing a little with the adrenaline. "Well, I can't say this is what I expected from a shrine," she says, patting his shoulder as she kneels in front of the remnants. She grabs her dagger first, then shoves everything she can fit into her bag.

Link gathers what few arrows remain salvageable before reaching for the machine's sword, eyeing it carefully and weighing it in his hands. Zelda stands and dusts off her skirt, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

Before she can speak again, Link holds his hands out to offer her the sword. "You should have this," he whispers. It's a short blade, but unlike anything she'd ever seen before—it glows with the same blue as the machine, a weapon seemingly made of pure light.

She takes it carefully, and Link begins walking away as she does. At the far end of the room, she realizes a new door has opened to a room similar to the one they entered in, only with stairs. Link makes his way over to a small glowing chest as Zelda hurries to catch up, kicking it open as she reaches his side again. He kneels to take its contents—a few arrows, as if making up for what he lost—before continuing up the stairs.

This, she realizes, is not really meant for her. She follows up the stairs, careful to stay several steps behind and absently running her fingers over the hilt of the sword. At the top of the stairs is another, smaller flight of stairs. It leads to a box of light, a figure sitting inside of it.

She stands at the base of the second set of stairs, watching as Link hesitantly walks forward, gently tapping a Sheikah eye in the center of the light. A circle forms around his touch, emanating out of the eye as Link flinches backward. The wall glows brighter, then, like the machine, dissipates into countless pieces of light.

A second passes, and Link flinches again, glancing around the room for a moment before focusing his gaze on the figure. His stare seems a mix of reverence and hesitance, a little glassy-eyed, as if he can't quite focus on what's before him.

Zelda clasps her hands together, not sure if something's going to happen. Yet the figure's chest begins to glow as a purple orb materializes, floating over to Link. It touches Link's chest and dissolves, bright lights circling him for a moment before disappearing into him. Link flinches for the third time, hand clasping his chest at the touch and watching the lights before they vanish.

In the back of her mind, she hears the voice again. _May the Goddess smile upon you._ The figure dissipates into a glimmering green dust, gone in an instant.

Link shuts his eyes for a moment, taking several breaths before lowering his hand from his chest and cautiously turning towards her. "Are you finished?" he whispers, stepping down the stairs and holding out his hand.

She nods. Link takes her hand, wordlessly leading her out of the shrine. It's the same as when they entered—a floating platform surrounded by a wall of light and, shortly after, the shrine's entrance above ground. All the while, Link is tense, absently reaching for his chest again. Zelda finds herself split between the desire to ask him what happened and to make notes on everything they'd just encountered, but Link gently spins her again to face the shrine.

The shrine, which was now glowing blue, just like in his pictures on the Sheikah slate.

Zelda lets out a surprised gasp, reflexively grabbing Link's arm in excitement. "Does that happen every time?" she asks. She opens her mouth to ask him a new series of questions, only stopping when she realizes he's starting to laugh.

"I know as much as you do, now," he murmurs, patting her shoulder. "And yes, it does." His voice is soft, more relaxed, a weight lifted off of his shoulders now that they've returned to the surface.

But it's gone in an instant, his face swiftly changing to one of concern as he looks her over. "I'm sorry for knocking you around," he murmurs, reaching forward to brush dirt off of her face with her thumb.

Zelda smiles in return, gently shaking her head. "I'm sorry I wasn't very well prepared. I should be thanking _you_ for even taking me inside." She claps her hands together, beaming with purpose. "Next time, I'll do better!"

Link grimaces a little, letting out a worried chuckle. _Right. If there_ is _a next time,_ she realizes.

Zelda decides to test his resolve.

"It would mean a lot for my research, seeing a second one. You said that combat wasn't normal, and it's always best to have more than one point of reference," she says, poking him playfully. Link seems… unimpressed. "But I'll need to make notes on this, diagrams, study my pictures—oh! I could compare to the ones that you took, and…"

Link is laughing again. If she didn't know him half as well as she does, she might think he was laughing _at_ her, but she's come to realize that he just enjoys her enthusiasm. She finds herself grinning back at him, and for a moment it seems that both of them have forgotten their troubles.

"Maybe," he answers.

.

The walk home is uneventful, the sun setting long before they finally reach Zelda's front door. Link grows tenser the closer they are to home, reality setting in once more, and Zelda's own worries begin to creep in again. She half expects the Zora to be sitting in her kitchen again, but instead things are quiet.

"I think Grandma's asleep," she whispers, looking at Link and watching relief cross his face as he realizes they're alone. "You should stay here," she says, more of a command than an offer.

He nods, lazily pulling his weapons over his shoulders and setting them by the door. He glances to their left at the sitting room door, where she'd always make a bed for him to sleep in, and she shakes her head. "There's beds made upstairs," she says. Link opens his mouth as if he's going to protest, but instead sighs in defeat.

_He looks exhausted_ , she realizes. There are bags under his eyes, his shoulders bent out of their normal posture, small scratches and scrapes from both last night and their adventure in the shrine.

He looks… an awful lot like someone carrying the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders, and for the first time, she decides she can't let him leave alone.


	10. Simple Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had the Hateno Village night theme on repeat the entire time I wrote this... 10/10 would do again.
> 
> I'm also debating doing nanowrimo with this if I have time between classes so, that might become a thing?

This time, Link sleeps on the floor. He knows it's ridiculous, but he still feels like he's imposing on her by staying in her home a second night now.

It doesn't take long for Zelda to fall asleep—between their morning with the Zora Prince, the shrine, and the journey home, she must be exhausted. Link would be lying if he said he wasn't, too, yet he finds himself lying on the floor staring at the ceiling, eyes heavy but sleep nowhere to be found.

There's a sort of panic building in him, a tension that started that morning with what little he remembered the night before, and grew more and more through the events of the day. And now he lays in his makeshift bed, body aching from fatigue and his mind racing.

It's a panic building from the mounting evidence that everything he's worked for has crumbled in a day, and he'll never be able to return things to the way they were.

He spends a couple hours lying still with his eyes shut, listening to Zelda's quiet breaths as he tries to will himself to sleep. It quickly becomes an exercise of patience, his mind too aware of his surroundings to rest but also too stubborn to get up and find something to do.

Link's mind wanders, reflecting on the day and realizing with a sort of bitterness that things haven't been so eventful for him since the day he left arrived in this town. Meetings, training, combat, shrines… he'd used to do a lot of that, hadn't he? His expectations for himself never wavered, even as it became ever clear that he couldn't live up to them, couldn't live up to what _other people_ expected either.

And now, in a sick twist of fate, everything had come back to haunt him all at once.

_As if failure wasn't enough of a punishment in its own right._

Did they want to see him fail again? Was that his fate—to watch his allies perish once more, because people have _expectations_ for him instead of accepting the truth, that he can't meet them?

He grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as the bitterest of his memories tried to surface in his mind.

_No matter how many times they ask, I will say no._ It is the only way to protect everyone.

He sits up, balling the blanket in his hands and glancing at Zelda. She's still asleep, her expression peaceful as she breathes softly. Link slowly rises to his feet, tiptoeing to the window behind him. He opens it as quietly as he can, sitting behind the curtain rather than pulling it open to ensure that, when the sun rises, he won't disturb Zelda.

But the night is still dark and cool. Link sits on the window seat, one leg pulled close against his chest and the other stretched out before him, leaning his back against the wall.

There isn't much to look at in the streets—the village is quiet, everyone in bed for the night. It'll still be an hour or two before people begin to wake for their morning chores, with the sunrise close behind. But he turns his focus to the sky, staring at the moon and holding his chest again as he remembers the monk in the shrine.

_Your triumph over the test of strength subverts a prophecy of ruin. From the ashes of Hyrule, a hero rises. You have proven to possess the resolve of a true hero, and the strength to recognize your shortcomings. I am Chaas Qeta, the creator of this trial. I am a humble monk, blessed with the sight of Goddess Hylia and dedicated to helping those who seek to defeat Ganon. With your arrival, my duty is now fulfilled. In the name of Goddess Hylia, allow me to bestow this gift upon you…_

The words echo in his thoughts, a bitter reminder of his duties. He wonders what the monks think, waiting thousands of years for him only for everything he tried to fall apart, and yet _still_ place their faith in him and give him the blessings of the Goddess.

It's a cold comfort, knowing where faith has gotten his allies in the past, knowing that most people see him only for his failings.

He knows he's to blame for some of that, that leaving so abruptly only made many people believe they were proven right, but why was it so hard for people to understand that he left to protect everyone, not _abandon_ them?

The Goddess does not care if he succeeds—she placed all the responsibility on him, provided him a few allies, and looked the other way when he failed. If she cared, she would have chosen someone new after him. Instead she leaves things as they are, in shambles and falling apart, instead of making a move to _really_ help.

Link watches the sky slowly shift from night to early morning, trying to shift his focus away from the past.

He leans his head against the side of the window, watching as some village homes light up with candles. A few villagers even begin to mill about the streets, tending to morning chores.

"You're awake already?" Zelda murmurs behind him.

Link jumps, quickly turning to meet her gaze. She looks tired and concerned. _Maybe I shouldn't tell her I haven't slept._ Instead, he offers her a short nod, tilting his head as if to ask why _she's_ awake.

Zelda yawns, covering her mouth with her hand before laughing a little. "I hardly ever sleep as late as you do, you know," she says, playfully taunting his habits.

Link doesn't answer, instead turning his head back towards the village. In the house below, one of Zelda's elderly neighbors—a friend of Grandma Ima's, he knows—waters her flowers, offering him a friendly wave when she looks up and sees him.

Link waves hesitantly back.

Zelda quietly perches on the other side of the window seat, still drowsy but a bit more awake. She waves as well, then smiles at Link.

Neither speaks, sitting in the silence of the breeze and the slowly rising sun. The light hits Zelda's face, lighting her hair from blonde to golden and making her white night gown seem to glow. _Fitting,_ he thinks. Link's side of the window wasn't quite in the sun's purview, only reaching his hands and his outstretched leg.

But the breeze was calming, and the silence comforting.

.

They watch the sun rise in a peaceful stillness. Zelda eventually shifts positions, moving to sit closer to Link though not quite against him. Link adjusts his leg to accommodate her, pushing it more to the side to give her space.

"I think I understand why you came here," she whispers. He watches carefully as she looks towards the sky, orange and pink clouds drifting lazily pass.

He expects her to say something more; she doesn't.

A few minutes of quiet, and Zelda looks towards him again. "I had a question, about yesterday," she starts. _If you don't mind,_ she implies.

Link nods, granting her permission to continue.

"You said you were seven when you met the champions," she says. Link nods again. "Calamity Ganon rose two years after the forming of the champions, didn't he?" she asks. Link nods a third time. "Then… you were nine, weren't you?"

Link tilts his head again, noticing the tone of her voice implying she wasn't finished.

"But the battle was sixteen years ago—that should make you twenty-five now, but you told me you're twenty, and you don't really look that old…" Zelda furrows her brows together, and Link realizes that this has been puzzling her, perhaps even since she'd seen the picture.

The _answer_ was simple—Link is twenty. But he had spent five years in the Shrine of Resurrection following the confrontation with Calamity Ganon in what he was told was a comatose state where his body stopped aging as it tried to heal his wounds.

And telling _her_ that, seeing her expression when she pieced together _everything that went with that_ was a more difficult matter.

So Link shrugs, looking out the window again. "It doesn't matter," he murmurs.

Zelda seems entirely unsatisfied with his answer, sensing something deeper behind it than a simple issue of age, but drops the subject in defeat. Instead she scoots closer, leaning her head against his chest and curling against him.

"Link, I was thinking," she whispers.

He meets her eyes.

"If you choose to go— _if,_ I won't make you—then… I want to come, too."

Link frowns, fingers loosely resting on her face as he looks away again.

"No," he says flatly. More words dance on his lips, _it's too dangerous, you should stay home, this is my duty, you deserve better_ … but he can't bring himself to voice any of them.

Because if he _did_ have to go, found he couldn't refuse any longer, then he wouldn't want to go alone.

And that thought, selfish yet comforting, kept him silent to any further questions from her, instead staring at the sky twirling her hair between his fingers.

.

Grandmother Ima waking is what eventually rouses the pair from their perch, Zelda having eventually fallen back asleep.

Link shakes her awake, waiting for her to stand before rising himself. They spend fifteen minutes preparing for the day, Link doing his best to make it look like he _wasn't_ wearing the same clothes a second day in a row and Zelda choosing a navy blue blouse, trousers, and boots.

Practical, considering how the shrine had gone.

Link is ready much earlier than Zelda is, but waits patiently, inwardly too nervous to be the first to go downstairs.

He knows he shouldn't. Circumstances may have changed in one day but _people_ _do not_ , and Grandmother Ima was no exception.

Yet he leans against the wall at the top of the stairs, carefully out of sight of the dining table, and waits. When Zelda eventually steps out of her room, she huffs out a laugh and pats his shoulder as she passes him down the stairs.

_Of course she noticed_. Link has half a mind to complain that she's too observant, but then would he really be close to anyone who _wasn't_ considering how much he disliked speaking?

Link follows shortly after her.

Breakfast is an uneventful affair, each of them pointedly ignoring the events of the previous day. Grandmother Ima attempts to make small talk, Zelda half-heartedly engages, and Link stares at his plate.

Grandmother Ima had made them fried eggs, rice, and toasted silent shrooms—simple, but something he and Zelda both agreed tasted like _home_.

Which meant Grandmother Ima was trying to comfort them, which, in his eyes, only made matters worse.

Zelda takes a skewer of mushrooms, quickly eating them one by one and smiling at Grandmother Ima. "I was reading the other day, there's a folktale that cooking a silent shroom's cap can make you move more quietly." She beams, reaching for another skewer. "That's where the name comes from."

Grandmother Ima smiles. "Some people still believe that, you know. There may be some truth to it yet."

Link reaches for a skewer perhaps a little too quickly, the idea of going unnoticed too good to pass up. Zelda sees this and he thinks he sees her roll her eyes.

For better or for worse, the rest of their meal passes normally. Zelda helps Grandmother Ima clean the dishes as Link wipes down the table. Yet, when they return from the kitchen, Grandmother Ima carries a serious expression and looks Link over.

She smiles and clasps her hands together. "Link, I would like to speak with my granddaughter alone."

.

After being rather unceremoniously asked to leave, Link finds his way into the back of the library, not really thinking of where he wants to be, just that he wants to _go_.

Sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room, he realizes he's too exhausted to really care about the details of _why_ he was asked to leave so suddenly.

Or maybe it was just fatigue making it seem sudden.

But he didn't really care to sleep, the uncertainty of the dreams awaiting him an uncomfortable thought.

Link flips through a book worn from use, a rundown of Sheikah technology that Zelda must have read front to back dozens of times. The cover was falling off from use, and Zelda had tried to rebind it with both glue and thread.

He tries to focus on its contents, reading a section on the ancient shrines and the monks they were believed to enshrine. His eyelids grow heavy and he fights to keep them open, a battle he quickly loses.

_The air is heavy with ash. His ears are ringing, deaf to the chaos surrounding him. The same scene from the night before repeats itself in front of him—a voice he thinks he shouldn't hear, his inability to move despite everything urging him to strike._

_As Calamity Ganon takes a step towards him, everything seems to pause. The air is too still, flames frozen in place, ash still clouding his lungs but hovering motionlessly._

_It is as if time itself has stopped, if only for a moment._

_The voice from before remains silent, Calamity Ganon stands mid-step before him. Only Link's breathing continues, staring ahead at the danger to come._

And not a moment after, Link feels something on his shoulder, jolting him awake. He frantically glances around the room in a panic before settling on the figure before him, the one that had woken him.

_Prince Sidon._

Sidon kneels in front of him, still entirely _too tall_. Sidon—to his credit—seems _concerned_ and does not wear the beaming grin he had before. "Forgive me, Link, it seemed you were having a nightmare," Sidon says, holding his wrists.

Link does not answer.

"I did not mean to interrupt you—I had come meaning to speak with you privately, but if you would like to go back to sleep, I will leave."

Link pauses. Maybe it was presumptive of him to assume Prince Sidon does not care for Link _at all_ , or maybe it was merely his princely training. But Link straightens his back, intrigued by this change in tone.

Sidon leaves for a moment, returning with a stool and—thankfully—sitting further away from him.

"I was hoping to understand why you've refused."

Link scowls, already regretting his decision.

"I do not wish to bother you, truly, but if I know why you've refused then it would help me tremendously in deciding how to move forward."

Link isn't sure if he believes him, but he sets his book down in his lap. As he does, several things register in Link's mind at once. The first—something is covering Link as a blanket, a cloak of sorts he thinks. The second—Prince Sidon is wearing a cloak _very_ similar to it, in lieu of the cravat and sash. In fact, Prince Sidon does not seem to be wearing _anything_ from before, entirely lacking in princely refinement for the moment.

He glances between Sidon and the cloak for a moment, a look of confusion crossing his face as he narrows his eyes at the prince.

"Oh, um… you looked cold," he says. "I can take it back, if you'd rather."

Link considers for a moment, but ultimately giving in. He crosses his legs, leans forward. Whatever Sidon has to say, his patience is wearing thin.

"Do you write?" Sidon asks, and seems to immediately regret his choice of words. "Er, I don't want you to feel as if this is one-sided, that is…"

Link averts his eyes and squeezes the cloak. The question surprised him, if he's honest with himself. It's been a _very_ long time since someone had asked, most people accepting defeat the moment they realize he doesn't speak. And it made things easier, letting people assume there was something wrong with his voice, and not his willingness to communicate.

He gives a gentle shake of his head.

Prince Sidon, for the first time it seems, remains silent.

Link furrows his brows, lips parting. He's not even sure _what_ he would say to him, if he said anything at all. Certainly not answer any of the questions Prince Sidon had asked. Perhaps request that he stop asking the questions in the first place.

"Yesterday, you seemed to use a book—would that help?"

Any desire Link had felt to communicate with Prince Sidon dies in an instant, reminded of the Zora's utter lack of patience. Link sighs, finally rising from his chair. He searches the bookshelves, knowing what he _wants_ but uncertain of where to find it.

He finds it in a botany book Zelda never cared for, discussing the symptoms of eating some of Hyrule's more dangerous wildlife.

Link places his finger between two words. _"Go away."_

Immediately, he looks to Sidon, carefully studying his response. Prince Sidon's expression remains composed, only the slightest crack in his mask as his lips part. A crack that is quickly covered. "I can come back later, if you'd rather…"

Link does not budge, only shaking his head and emphasizing the words again.

Sidon sighs. "It's as I said yesterday—I cannot return to my people with so little to tell them."

Link takes the book immediately, looking for its place on the shelf and pointedly ignoring Sidon's gaze.

"I know you probably don't believe me, but I truly do not wish to bother you. But if I return without being able to tell them that I'd tried everything I could, I'll be a failure to them."

Link freezes.

"If I don't do whatever I can here, then I'll have failed my responsibilities to them," he explains. Link shudders, beginning to search for a new book. "So I'll ask one more time—why have you refused?"

He still doesn't care for that phrasing— _"why have you refused?"_ It's not fair to Sidon, to judge him on something so small, to expect him of all people to understand Link's reasoning. "Refuse" is an apt word, he knows, but it feels _wrong_ when he says _no_ because he _can't_ , not because he _doesn't want to_.

This time he knows the book he wants, the _phrase_ he wants, but has trouble finding it. It's not something Zelda really cared for, and Link isn't entirely certain of his own opinions on it. But it has what he wants, and the rest seems irrelevant at the moment.

Link scans book spines, searching for his query. Sidon seems to respect his search, only mildly twitchy as Link finally pulls a book off of the shelf and turns around. He flips open to a page near the center, pointing towards one sentence.

_"I have failed my duties."_

Sidon reads this aloud and Link shudders, lowering his head and shutting his eyes for a moment.

With seemingly no warning, Prince Sidon's entire demeanor changes instantly. "But surely if it is just a lack of confidence then the solution is simple! The Goddess is giving you another chance to redeem yourself, both to the people and you!"

The prince holds out a hand and grins at Link, infuriatingly optimistic.

"Come with me, help my people—I have the utmost faith in you that together we can do this!"

Link almost wants to yell at him, _it's not that simple_ , but instead he glowers. He leaves Sidon's cloak on the table, glaring at him as he walks away.

For the first time in years, Link realizes, he might be _angry._


End file.
